


Preamble

by upquarkAO3



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Ancient virgins, Be gentle Maze - at least at first, Gets raunchy; also supposed to be funny...hope that happens, Lucifer discovers the toy that he can't lose, Maze and Luci discover LA life post-beach landing, New friends are fun too, Other, Proper hygiene has great yields, Think outside the box people, Yes I said 'box' Deal, darkly snarky, hinty thoughts of beginning things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/upquarkAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New to Earth and LA specifically, Lucifer and Maze get a come-uppance on how the human gears mesh with the human condition. Collection of one-shots the time frame of pre-show (because I am a fool for backstory, lol). Some serious, some not. Naughtiness with naughty bits, too (as in, way raunchy).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> 'Twas muddling around some one-shot ideas and I'll plunk them here. They won't necessarily be in a linear time frame, but if adding and *prior knowledge of one chapter is important to another, I'll stipulate* 'between this chapter and that one', etc. Not all naughty, either, but the general rating's deserved for the first one.

[ - ]

He had been sleeping, which was something new. **Another** something new, in a new place brim full of new experiences. **Quite** ‘full’ actually, and unbeknownst to him, right on the cusp of yet another novelty.

Over the last few days, Lucifer was still becoming acclimated to this body, this human visage he’d donned. And what it was capable of. He was an immortal playing within a tool of mortality and he was still discovering all the bells and whistles. Taste. Sleep. Thirst. Sensation…all unique things he was letting himself experience because why not? Wasn’t it the point? To do and have something…quite different? And completely of his own volition? The last two times he’d visited this little orb he’d had no need for a shell at all. And Hell had quite different requirements for his sustainability and there was no (hah) earthly way he could ever blend in here as he wished. ‘Not as the Devil, darling’, he’d said to her.

His demon, choosing a different option for her flesh cloak had commented on his choice of voice as well.

“Most of them here don’t sound like that, Lucifer.” It still felt a little strange not to address him as ‘my Lord’, but he’d been quite stern about that. At least in proximity to these…creatures. Having never been out of Hell before, Mazikeen had been amazed at the differences in the physicality of humans…young, old, healthy, handicapped, female, male…some blends of those? An endless display of shapes, size and colors on a constantly cranking conveyer belt. Just falling off and adding on in life and death…she could not be quite certain if she found the concrete observation interesting or appalling. Both, perhaps. Despite her reluctance to engage with these _things_ in this newly interactive way, she found herself mildly intrigued. Souls were simply souls after death and she treated the ones under her targeted tutelage accordingly. This variety of physicality might be fun after all. For a time.

Lucifer had sighed at her, even that sounding different with the Welsh inflection. “I’m **me** , Maze. Can’t be too vanilla. Bor-ing.”

She looked him up and down, evaluating. “You didn’t have to be ‘vanilla’ at all.” She stroked her smooth dusky skin, reveling in the difference. “ _ **I** _ chose a different ‘flavor’, didn’t I?”

“Yes you did. Quite interesting to see you this way.” It was. His long companion; in such a different place and appearance now…role still the same, though.

For their first few days here, Lucifer manifested finances and clothing, but spurred his demon to make headway deeper into the ‘human condition’. To her ire.

“ **Why**? Why can’t we just ‘take’ and ‘make’ what we need as we’ve done?”

“Because what **I** need, Mazikeen, is some distinct  change. Come on…we’re going to engage with these creatures and get “proper papers and etcetera” done up so we can have all options open to us.”

She wasn’t thrilled, not in the slightest, but seeing him happy and excited – such a change from how he was just before leaving Hell…well…she could get acquiesce. For him. Albeit grudgingly.

So having found a gorgeous short-term loft lease while deciding what he wanted to do, Lucifer had taken to long walks around the city, observing all…seedy AND savory alike. Two of many flavorful blends just waiting to be tasted.

On one long midnight stroll, deliberately ignoring the Heavens he knew were lurking just beyond the haze snagged in the city spires, he nearly stumbled over a homeless man. He paused, nudging the poor chap with an expensively-shod foot – dead? No, from the honking snore – just asleep. ‘Well then,’ he thought, tucking his entire billfold into the man’s chest pocket, ‘…here’s to sweet dreams coming true, old lad.’

Sleep. Hmm. At first, he had not understood the point; as an immortal he didn’t really ‘need’ to sleep and he knew he would not dream as these humans did…but still. Rather than committing himself for long at first go, he decided to try a nap. He’d woken to Maze sitting cross-legged on the end of their single piece of furniture, a rather sterile couch, staring at him.

“Well?”

“Hmm.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The concept is interesting…rather like punctuation. I could see where it could keep all these new experiences from… _running together_ , like. But the setting could stand some vast improvement.” He prodded the cushions, dissatisfied.

Maze still looked perplexed. Lucifer sighed. Accentually.

“Look here, you’ve sampled cuisine, yes?”

She nodded. “Last evening. Steak. Rare.” She hooded her eyes and smiled, licking her lips. For some reason, that made his stomach twist. Strange sensation; not unpleasant. Perhaps this was ‘hunger’ since they were discussing food? Shaking the feeling off, he continued.

“Anything else with it?”

Mazikeen’s forehead crinkled slightly. “Something green and fluffy. Rather tasteless; I didn’t understand it. Salad, I think? And something mealy. “A…” she tapped her chin, thoughtfully. “Ah! ‘Baked potato’. I preferred the meat.”

“Right, yes. Now imagine taking all that in pre-masticated.” Her nose wrinkled. “Right. More fun, more palatable as distinct tastes and textures are, don’t you think? So perhaps that’s what sleep – the ‘little death’ does. Breaks experiences up a bit so they can be **enjoyed** more completely.” Her eyebrows lifted slightly. She got it in concept, but preferred action to introspection. No action in slumber. Lucifer watched the expressions play over her lovely face…definitely a novelty, that aspect. Wanting to blend in well here in LA, she’d chosen to create an attractive visage, just as he had. But he was secretly glad she’d kept the small scar over her left eye. Badge of honor it was, and her tie to the only home she’d ever known. This wasn’t easy for her, and he was glad of the company. He’d been suddenly desperate to leave and she insisted on accompanying him.

They went out again to eat that night, enjoying their observations of these humans in their transient physical forms. Such strange, rabidly busy creatures they were…it was as if mortality blinded them to everything else during this brief fleshed hiatus in their collective existence. Life just one bauble on the long string of their souls. Perhaps it did. Otherwise how could they feign such interest in their mundane little details?

At Maze’s recommendation, Lucifer tried steak. Char over bloody flesh was **her** preference…and it was  delicious. He was hoping they’d be gone long enough for the delivery to be completed. He’d ordered two of the most decadent beds made, along with some other furniture and household items. Not too much…they were still settling in and he was garnering all sorts of ideas of how he wanted to spend his time here…but still. Why suffer in the lull? He’d far more than enough of THAT already.

After their return to the loft Mazikeen grumbled when he admonished her to at least **try** sleep, once, and sullenly stomped to her room located just across the open living space from his. As she slammed the door on him, Lucifer’s eyebrows raised and tangled. Free will. Easier to deal with in theory rather than execution, sometimes. She lay back on the soft linens and while she appreciated the sensual comfort, she did NOT appreciate the concept. Ah well, he’d only said “Try it.” Not ‘do it’. And if she was quiet with the door shut he’d be none the wiser, so….she crossed her arms angrily and resolved to stare at the ceiling until dawn broke. Her gaze softened at the thought. Sunrise lighting the smog reminded her of the flame and smoke of portions of Hell. A little glimpse of home, every single short day. Wandering the landscape of her vast thoughts, she wasn’t aware of the passage of linear time through the night until she heard Lucifer’s voice raised in - what? Not anger. **Fear??!** She ran, preternaturally fast through her door and then his, flinging it open, daggers drawn.

Looking wildly around for a threat she didn’t see.

“My lord, what **is** it?!”

Lucifer was sitting up in bed, expression of horror splattered on his face as he looked down. He was twisted in the bedlinens and she flung them off to see if he was injured…he was immortal…how could that be? But the piercing cry she’d heard….that was…unmatched.

“I’m broken, Maze! This body…something’s gone awry!”

“WHAT? **How**? What  happened?”

“I was sleeping…then…” his voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed. Ah. More vileness inherent to this sleep business. Just as she’d surmised.

“Then what?” Running her hands briefly over him, around him, peering at the ivory silk sheets he’d insisted on…becoming confused when she touched a portion of the duvet…but she paused in her frantic search to listen to him stumble through thicketed phrases. Besides. Circulation on this plane was done with blood and she saw none of that color here.

“I was asleep.” Confused voice.

“Yes. You said. Then what…did you dream?” She cringed. Dream was so far away and should **not** be able to affect Lucifer.

“No…I don’t know. I don’t think so…but…” His brow furrowed, trying to remember if he had. He’d fallen asleep thinking about their day, happy here. Looking forward to **more**. More  everything. Tastes, experiences…he’d lain on his stomach, long limbs akimbo through the soft bedding. This bed **far** and away preferable to the couch for this experiment in slumber. He’d stretched out, feeling _luxurious_ …now that was quite a fun word in this language. It even _sounded_ rich and decadent rolling off the tongue. This was the last thing he’d remembered before he’d fallen away into sleep. The  only sort of fall he wanted to think on, ever again thanks much.

Then something different…such a strange feeling drifting in on the edges of his dimmed perception. A pull. A… **need**. A **lure** tracking through this new body and as he’d barely begun to rise from the depths of sleep he’d been aware of friction…how could he be moving without conscious intent? Then a novel sensation. Sharp? Not really.... Aching? Yes, but strangely, not entirely unpleasant. Then it intensified…and as he’d come fully awake he realized this body had changed shape in one section, and…leaked? He’d been horrified, and started bellowing for his demon. He said as much to her, and blast if she didn’t look more confused than he did.

“Where? Where did this happen?”

“Here! Just here.” He looked down at his lap. Everything seemed back to the way it was, other than the strange fluid over his lower belly and section of the sheets. Maze brought the damp material closer to her nose. It had a scent. Not unpleasant, but…

“Let me see, my lord.” She moved closer to him, still unused to this new form of his. Fuming. Perhaps they should have gone somewhere else. Some place where sentient life had armor or shell. Not HERE, this little random rock Lucifer had only chosen because of his brief history here with his youngest brother. He was so anxious to escape he’d literally gone the first place that came to mind. Mazikeen still thought the lack of foresight in why and how they’d left was ridiculous. She knew he was unhappy, but had no idea what had finally galvanized him, and he wasn’t letting on, either. She might think his actions were rash, but she respected him enough not to press. Yet.

She ran a dusky hand down his body, slowly, looking for injury or flaw. Nothing. It looked the same as when he’d first manifested it on the beach. She caught his sudden intake of breath, though.

“Does something hurt, Lucifer? Have you pain?” She used both hands now, patting lightly over his chest and belly, unwilling to press harder if he was somehow injured without their knowledge.

“No, it doesn’t…hurt.”

She looked at him closely. His voice sounded strained and his deep brown eyes were darkening further. She was still unused to this color, having only known them crimson before. Maybe humans altered eye color during this dangerous state of sleep? They came in so many shades, so perhaps they also transformed in one person. But why? Mazikeen risked more pressure, concerned. His lids hooded, lips parted and breathing changed.

It wasn’t the only thing.

“My lord?! What’s happening?”

“I…this is what I meant…I don’t kn- **OH**.”

She’d touched him.

She quickly drew away, frightened of hurting him further. Panicking slightly when he grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

“Do it again. **Now**.”

“Lucifer, I…” She felt him pulse there, still changing. This portion of his body becoming rigid and inflexible under her fingers.

“You heard me, demon.” His voice was thick, guttural. He kept his hand over hers, pressing harder.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my lord.”

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes and lay back on several of those many ludicrous pillows he’d insisted on. Groaning softly now as he pulled her smaller hand under his, making her clasp this…strangeness. It was like a live thing, twitching. Slick still with whatever that musky-scented fluid was.

“Don’t stop, Mazikeen….don’t…ah, me…” He folded his arms behind his neck and arched under her touch, long muscled torso clenching as she stroked him. She was still wary, unsure of what was happening. Becoming more concerned as whatever he was suffering from seemed to be affecting her as well. Her own breath was coming faster, and her lower belly felt heavy and knotted.

Were they both ill? How could a sickness affect such as them? And onset so quickly?

She tried one last time to pull her hand away but he opened his eyes and snarled at her….strangely, she wasn’t frightened, although it did make those odd feelings in her new body intensify. He clasped his hand over hers again, rubbing, moving them faster as his breath came in hungry gasps.

“Mazikeen…Mazie…I…oh… **OH** …” He lunged up, shuddering. Hot, creamily viscous fluid spilled over their hands and she felt him jerking under her palm. She squeezed to make it stop and his eyes flew open wide. “MAZE!”

She froze, unsure of what the tone in his voice meant.

He settled slowly, once she’d released her grasp. His breathing normalized and he seemed himself again. A little better actually, more relaxed. She certainly wasn’t. Whatever had happened to him was still making her breath come fast and belly twist. And now she seemed to be…damp, as well. Not as he had been when she first came in, but….she was worried.

He saw the concern in her amber eyes and tried to reassure her. It had begun to dawn on him what was happening. However, the experience was quite a bit more intense than simply hearing about it might lead one to believe, certainly with onset whilst still dredged in sleep.

“It’s all right, Mazikeen. I’m fine. Bloody hell! I think it was just…”

“Well **you** might be fine, but **I’m** not! I feel ill now, too! I can’t catch my breath, and…” she pressed her hand over her lower belly, concerned. Now confused and a little angry at the smirk sliding over his face. “Lucifer! It’s not amusing!”

“Isn’t it?” He laughed. “Lay back, I’ll help you.” He stroked his hand over her bent leg, running his fingertips lightly up the inside of her thigh.

“What? NO! I don’t want to make it worse!” But she gasped at the touch and her hand clasped over his, pulling him further up. He extended his fingers, teasing lightly over the center seam of those tight animal-skin leggings she’d found. She was warm here…no, **hot**. And he could see the slight darkness in the tan leather as she squirmed under his gentle touch.

“Oh, I…”

“I **know**. It’ll be all right; you have my word. Lay back, Maze? Want to?”

She was silent, still apprehensive, but did as he asked. His word was his bond and she knew this. She even helped him remove those leggings that had suddenly seemed so…superfluous. She gazed at the ceiling in a fixed amber stare, trying to understand what was happening to this physical body. She trusted him as she could no other, but this was all still so very odd. And these sensations felt vaguely dangerous…she relaxed a little at that thought. She was enamored of danger, so maybe…

Oh…she closed her eyes as he touched her, lost. **Now** she understood why he’d arched up…she was doing the same, wanting to be even closer to those warm fingers stroking her body.

“Yes? You like this?”

She couldn’t speak…just nodded.

Lucifer smiled though she could not see it. If this…crisis was the same for a female form as his had been, well, his demon was going to be in for SUCH a surprising treat. Maze was mewling now, and the sounds and the feel of her under his hand had reawakened his own body. He pressed against her bare hip, so close to where his fingers were exploring. Finding all the ways she could respond as he worked.

“Lucifer, I…”

He leaned in close to her ear, biting softly as he whispered, “Yes, Maze? What do you want, my friend?”

She twisted at the new sensation, gasping and then again, deeper as he slipped two of his fingers within her slick warmth. “Oh! _More!_ **More** of that!”

“How much more?” It was a legitimate question. He'd even impressed himself, and that was certainly saying something.

“As much as…as you can give me…”

Since he was already laying on his side, Lucifer turned her quickly to face him. She scowled, angry when he withdrew his hand, but swung her hips closer as he pressed himself against her.

“Yes Maze? How about this, then? Would you like to try me **this way**?” Lucifer was badly hoping she did. He’d had eons without this wonderful sensation and didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to in order to experience it again. Still, free will, so…

“Hurry.”

He smiled gleefully as he obliged her. Free will. **Great stuff** , that.

Lucifer rocked his demon through her first orgasm and then several more afterwards. The two hellions joyfully played this new game with ever-changing rules over previously unexplored topography until they were exhausted and the sun was well overhead.

“Lucifer… **now** I understand why unbridled lust is one of the major draws for home. Mortal creatures: who knew these bodies could be made to feel this way?”

“Indeed. Devilishly delicious if I do say so myself.” He chuckled as she slapped rebuke on his chest. More pain than the touches they’d used until now, but still…interesting. **Fun**. He raised one eyebrow and dug his nails into her thigh as she lay beside him. Pleased to see the same look of interest dawn over her face as he clenched down.

“Well, what do you think of that, then?”

“Ask me after,” she retorted, pointed grin shining at him.

After a few days of this sort of play (with Maze finally extolling on the great uses for beds, though sleep wasn’t her favorite one) interspersed in their repertoire of other earthly explorations they discussed sex in detail as they did everything else new. Namely, how to get more out of the experience. Lucifer bemoaned the fact that having male and female forms meant there was, eventually only so much one could do with a partner, ‘and quite happy about that, mind’, but still. ‘More’ was rapidly becoming his new favorite word in many instances.

He was quite surprised then when Maze slipped out early one evening, sans his company but with a diabolical twinkle in her eye. She’d been quite secretive and had refused to give him any hints. He allowed it; she was enjoying her freedom just as much as he was. He’d buried himself in two more new pleasures: nose in a book (what a wonderful experience was reading!) and expensive scotch in his mouth (deliciously stinging velvet!). He heard strange voices in the hallway outside the entrance to their loft, and paused in his enjoyments. Then Maze’s, full of suspenseful mischief as she unlocked the door.

“Oh Lucifer, hope you don’t mind - I’ve brought home some…guests for the evening. More the merrier, right?”

He raised his eyebrows as his demon walked in, towing a handsome man with beautifully smooth skin in a shade far richer than hers, and a willowy woman with auburn hair contrasting with the most amazing green eyes. Mazikeen licked her lips and grinned at her friend, then slowly ran her tongue up the woman’s bare arm, smiling wider as she shivered, giggling. The man was grinning as well, albeit a little sheepishly as he clenched the hand Maze was holding tighter and surreptitiously dropped the other one to try to conceal his growing level of interest.

Lucifer had the broadest grin of all.

Thinking: ‘More the merrier **indeed**. Don’t mind  at all, Mazie. Neither a bit nor a whit’.

“Hello to you, then. How about let’s all have a drink and get to know each other **far better** , yes?”


	2. Oral Hygiene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working on a more serious bit, but this blurt just dug a small scoop out of my brain. Saucy conversation at points, but hey, the topic's important enough to get worked into a lather for, right? :-)

[ - ]

They stood together under the rather antiseptic glare of lights, the Devil and his demon. Posture, decorum and looks of intense evaluation were coupled with terse stipplings such as ‘yes’, ‘doubtful’, **‘really now’** , ‘rather not’. Heads inclined toward one another conspiratorially, arms crossed, looking for all the world as if they were deciding the most appropriate hellish punishments rather than navigating their current snarl.

How DOES one choose when there are so many options?

When there are so many shiny words screaming off blinding gloss?

“I didn’t think this would be so bloody difficult.”

Maze whistled under her breath in agreement. “They all have similar information, and pictures.” She selected an option, brow furrowed. “This one has stripes.”

“For what **possible** purpose?”

“ _ **I**_ don’t know. It has sparkles, too.” She lifted her upper lip slightly in disgust, replacing the package with a sharp tap. To his inquiring eyebrows she threw an offhand, “Too…froofy. Doesn’t look serious enough.”

“Ah.” Lucifer selected another. “How about this, then? No smiling humans on it, at least. And I like the language. Really makes the point, wouldn’t you say?” With a devilish smirk he handed her the box.

“Oral-B. **Pro**.” She cut her eyes at him as she read it aloud.

The smirk became a leer.

“You would. _Fine_.” She held gentle restraint on his arm as he moved to turn away, relief at having choices made evident. “Wait…we’re not finished yet.”

Deep brown eyes rolled up at the ceiling. “Mazikeen. Whatever do you mean? I thought we just....”

She held up two boxes. “Mint or cinnamon?”

He sighed, deep and painfully, the sound rolling up from the soles of his feet. This was wearing. “You choose.”

The demon grinned. “Cinnamon. I like hot.”

“But of course you do, darling…well, off we go then. Chop-chop.”

“No…wait…” He groaned as she dragged him a few steps further by pinching the fine material at his elbow, appraising eyes sharpening as they went. Stopping again, booted foot ticking on the tiles.

“Mouthwash?”

“Blue. Like the ocean. Hopefully not as salty, to be honest.” Small shudder which turned into a chuckle at her lascivious beam. "Again, of course **you** do, Mazie.” Laughing harder as she licked her teeth through the grin as she continued moving on down the aisle.

“Multipack or singles?”

“Oooohh, neither! THIS one!” Fiddling with the trial button and giving a gleeful yelp as the electric toothbrush buzzed in his hand. “Perhaps several. You know, just in case.” He dumped a few into the plastic basket she carried.

“In case of **what** , exactly?”

“Company. Open-minded company.” Wistful sigh accompanied by slightly pursed lips and tweaked brows. She rolled her eyes at him, but truthfully, she was having fun with inconsequentiality, too. It was still quite bizarre to feel…relaxed. Novel. And she did enjoy new things.

They disagreed vehemently on the floss options. “You can use the rolls for *other stuff*!” / “But Maze! These are dinosaurs! Like **toys**! In different _colors_ , yet!!” Finally deciding on both they headed toward the register. The clerk never batted an eyelash over the several hundred dollars’ worth of mouth care. This was SoCal: he’d seen weirder.

Back at the loft the hellions spread out their loot on the large onyx countertop in Lucifer’s bathroom and as they did with all new experiences, got down to some serious experimentation. Cue following exchanges, voices heated at times ringing off the tiles in the large space.

“What does ‘pea-sized amount’ mean? And snow or garden variety…it doesn’t specify. Dolts. Poor quality-control, clearly.”

Answering his quizzical look with frustration as she struggled with brush and tube, “I can’t make it go in that twisty squiggle like on the package…and **yes** , I know it’s bigger than a pea, Lucifer!”

“It is rather. More ‘pigeon dropping’ if you ask me.”

“Well, I **didn’t** so….”

Mouths full of foam and pistoning enthusiasm, Maze asked frothily, “Spit or swallow?” To which the Prince of Darkness responded by giggling like a drunken high-schooler. A female one.

The demon got retribution when one of Lucifer’s plastic dinosaur floss aids got stuck on a back molar.

“Ith not amuthing, Mathikeen!”

“Oh, but it **SO** is! You look like you’re being attacked by one of the feeder-fish we saw on that National Geographic program!!!”

“Thop! Thop your **blasthed** laughing and HELF me! I command…oh bugger all. Uthlesth, you are.” Tugging hard, the Devil finally freed himself, though it was likely his dignity would remain trapped in her memory for quite a long time. “Far too treacherous for my taste, those bits. I shall be well-rid of your noxious perfidy.” With a baleful stare at the colorful bag he gave it a punitive sweep into the wastebasket next to the sink.

“Censor yourself, demon.” His stern words had little effect on the gales she was doubled-over in. The follow-up of, “Well, come now, whath…er, **what’s** next, then?” did little to improve it, though at least she began to wipe the mirthful tears from her eyes as she slid over the bottle of mouthwash, still weak with laughter.

Lucifer just eyed the little cap cup on the top of the bottle. “Well this is simply dreadful; I shall NOT debase myself to drink out of plastic.” Maze cut him an arched eyebrow taunt as she plucked the bottle from his hand and took a large swig.

“Unrefined, my dear. Quite so.” He busied himself rinsing his earlier scotch tumbler and poured himself a fingerful of ocean. Forehead knitting in calculation as he held it up to the light, deciding to add a bit more. They stared at each other in the mirror, swishing vigorously, then jockeying for position at the sink by tossing elbows and hips. Lucifer being taller secured the advantage and spit first.

“No sloppy seconds for me, thanks much,” he crowed.

“Haven’t heard you complain about that yet,” groused his demon.

He tilted his head and mockingly cupped an ear toward her, “Sorry, didn’t catch…what was that now?” Earning no reply but a sullen stare to his broad and newly dazzling smile. “Well then, I believe that’s that….” he washed his hands and dried them as he assessed the intensifying glower on her face. “What?”

She barked at him, long painted talon ticking on the freckled reflection. “And whose job is it to clean the little frosty flecks that wound up on the mirror?”

"You're the demon; you're supposed to keep me from harm and menial boredom, correct?"

She spluttered and fussed at his retreating back as he sauntered away. "Well, YOU'RE taller! This mess is not from **my** mouth, so...!"

The verbal joust from the other room made her eyes roll. "Can think of something else to do with 'that mouth', Mazie. Why don’t you come on in when you’re finished, yes?"

Lucifer smiled. Oral care was indeed so very important…and thoroughness divine.


	3. Altered States

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Maze continue to explore in LA, and discover fun new friends. And also, drugs. Don't do like the hellions, kids; humans are far more fragile. And subject to ramifications of legality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answer to an ‘inclusive’ prompt for midseason 1 from titC: "Chloe discovering Lucifer is not only sexing model-pretty white, thin, blonde, ladies; but also people of all genders (or of no gender!), ethnicities, age, body shapes, (dis)abilities not an issue, etc, because what’s important is having fun with like-minded people, and f*ck conventions and what’s considered the done thing and other people’s opinions. Maybe mid-season one? I’m sure you can totally work out what it is he finds attractive while answering that one, dahling :-p" and also a sideways omage to a dear friend and Paralympic warrior. ‘Cunning linguist’ borrowed from Skaoi ;-)

[ - ]

The parenthetical lines of amusement around Lucifer’s generous mouth fell into the realm of smirk as Mazikeen hounded him.

“We’re going to be LATE. Come ON.”

He’d spent the last several minutes grooming languidly, enjoying her tension. “My dear, no party truly begins until our arrival. How could **we** possibly be tardy?”

“It’s not that simple this time, Lucifer. Set a fire under your hinder, why don’t you?”

He snickered, straightening his collar, brushing a fashionably stubbled cheek and rolling his neck to see if any further upkeep was required. No. Perfect. As he was intended, if not in the actuality of divergence from his design. He threw her some dismissive words; the tone equally so. “Been there, done that…no longer the sort of ‘flame’ I find interesting.”

From outside his closed bathroom he heard his demon grunt. “Riiiihgt. Like you don’t like it ‘hot’.” He swept open the door, finally ready to meet whatever LA offered this evening, but choosing to begin the feast with an appetizer. “Mazie…like we’d even need to leave our own four spacious walls for that…” He ran a gentle sweep of soft fingertips up her jaw, then a hard scratch down her neck, smiling at the complex response evoked.

“Stow it, Lucifer. We’re late. And I promised Lane we’d be downstairs five minutes ago.”

“Well what of it, then? It’s not as if _ **I**_ did. **You** may be more ‘creative’ with your word, lucky little devil, you.”

He laughed at her irritated sigh as she took his hand in hers, hurrying him toward the elevator and the noxious fume of city nightlife beyond. On the ride down to the lobby he asked again, “What’s so special about this outing?”

Same response she’d given for days: a sinister smile. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

For the past several weeks since their arrival in LA the two hellions had been branching out. Discovering the pleasures of the flesh with one another, then expanding their scopes…what a delicious treat these humans and their inventions were. Such variety of tidbits and toys. Such unique appetites. Wonderful. Maze had been first to explore the outer fringes of their options; no surprise really. Her role in Hell had been to assess newcomers and catalog accordingly for Lucifer to deal with. She was doing the same here, except this was all in good fun. No simple categorization, the concept of “fun” was…humans were as diverse as their appearances and some of the most staid were quite surprising under their guises.

The car waiting was stocked with plenty of liquid conversational aids meeting the demands of Lucifer’s continually refining palate in addition to one slightly apprehensive tour guide. Maze poured generous portions for both herself and her boss, all the while spinning the nervous man in the web of her gaze. Smiling slowly at their liaison she stroked his chest with long, lacquered talons. “So. Laaannney. Tell us….is this evening going to be worth what we’ve given in advance?”

“Umm. Uh, yes. Absolutely. You won’t be, err, disappointed. Umm...Either of you.”

Lucifer sipped his treat. He took a minute to grin over the rim of his glass at the man’s discomfiture caught as he was in the demon’s potent tangles. “My goodness, Mazie. Quite a tongue-tied ‘linguist’, he is.”

“He was actually rather cunning along those lines during ‘negotiations’. You’re just scaring him.” His demon smiled from the other side of the limousine, her grip tightening on the man’s collar. The changing size of his slightly bloodshot eyes was directly proportional to the strength of her grasp.

Lucifer chuckled at the man’s expression snagged somewhere between fear and fascination. “I rather don’t think it’s **me** doing the scaring, my dear. Do remember to play nice with your toys here. They’re rather more fragile this way than you’re accustomed to.” The demon smiled as she relaxed (and it appeared from the further widening of his eyes that Lane did not find her pointed grin particularly soothing), and smoothed down the knot of the tie she’d tweaked. She reached across his nervously twitching legs to tap a sharp nail on the small case resting beside him on the seat.

“Well. Why don’t you show us what party favors you’ve got before we arrive?”

Lucifer’s eyebrows raised. He had assumed they were simply attending another one of those exclusively ‘restricted’ events Maze seemed to have a knack for finding.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Great idea.” Clearing his throat Lane shifted the attaché to the narrow table between the seats. It was a tasteful and unobtrusive Salvatore Ferragamo …no one would give it a second look on the street, but hidden inside were far more delectable items than a laptop or legal briefs. As the man opened the clasp the hellions leaned forward, enthralled. Pocketed liner page after page full of illegal substances in small sampler sachets each got a brief description. Lucifer’s innate curiosity was piqued and Maze smiled to see his expression, pleased with herself. Just wait until he saw what **else** the night held in store.

“So, each of these…”

“’Embellishments’, I like to call them. Anything else seems so…’unrefined’. Tacky, even.” Lane had completely recovered his aplomb. He might find these two disconcerting, but held a high estimation of pandering both himself and his products. No LA riff-raff for him: neither in goods nor clientele, no sirree.

“Agreed. That certainly wouldn’t do. I’ve seen the aftermath of some poor sods on my excursions; merely wastes of flotsam and jetsam swept over in heaps on the streets. Decidedly unsavory, that.” Lucifer’s upper lip curled slightly in disgust, the lines near his flared nostrils deepening. How could anyone possessing even a modicum of pride allow themselves to come to that end?

After hearing the descriptions of the major drug families and their effects, Maze looked over at her devil. “If you don’t mind, _**I’d**_ like to pick, seeing as **I** know what we’re getting into later.” She was almost successful in her effort not to smirk at her near-slip.

Lucifer set his empty glass down beside the case, stretched both arms over the back of the seat and smiled magnanimously at his demon. He was pleased to see her interest; not only in his pleasure and well-being, but her new environment. So far their transition had been easier for him than her, and he wanted her to be happy here, though he’d never make a point of saying so. “Certainly darling. I’ll expect we’ll see more of your new friend on other occasions. Do have first go.”

“Tell me more about these,” Maze asked, holding up two packets of multicolored small lobular granules.

Lane, knowing exactly where they were headed gave Maze a smile of admiration. “Fantastic choice for tonight…really outstanding.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows in silent question. The man spoke quickly as he brought out what looked like small silver shotglasses, donned gloves and emptied one packet in each. “ **So** much fun! Cocaine and moly-laced Pop-Rocks.”

The Devil’s quizzical brows flickered as Maze’s smile became more toothy. Unbeknownst to her boss, she’d already explored the playground of sensory substances, which was how she’d come across Lane in the first place. Constructed as they were, neither of them felt effects of their environment as an actual human would: no extremes in temperature, hunger, exhaustion…and that included any purposeful manipulations of their senses as well. However, they weren’t impervious, either. Lucifer appreciated alcohol for the velvet-clad barbs on his tongue and the mild glow of relaxed warmth. Feeling ‘relaxed’ at all was still novel, and he enjoyed anything that furthered that. He listened intently as the man described the heightened awareness cocaine could give in addition to the increased sensuality the 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine or ‘moly’ lent to the mix. Well, being a carnal creature of refinement himself, her choice sounded charming and he emptied the shot glass into his mouth at one go, shocked to feel the candy’s bubbly tickles! Maze, having already downed hers grinned wickedly, leaned over the table and kissed him. Her tongue danced through his mouth as the sweets did; light and almost effervescent.

Lucifer closed his eyes to concentrate on the new sensations and was slightly disappointed to feel her pull away. “Mmmm. Nice. Like **that** , then.”

“Just wait.” Maze and Lane spoke the same words at the same time, and side-eyed each other, all anticipatory mischief.

By the time the car arrived at their destination Lucifer was pleasantly aware of an interesting dichotomy. He felt alert and focused, but ‘expansive’ as well and he wanted to touch everything. The supple leather of the seats, the expensive material of his suit, even the brief brush he gave Maze’s hair felt incredibly interesting under his fingertips. He wondered what else might feel differently delightful, and where. With that naughty thought in mind he leaned closer toward her, his agile tongue licking out from behind his teeth.

“Mazie. Darling. Why don’t we…” he grasped her hand and slid it along the inside of his thigh “…enjoy this a little more, yeah?” She trailed her fingers back, digging her nails into the taut muscle and teasing, enjoying the suggestively appreciative flash of his eyes as she drew away.

“That’s the name of the game, tonight, Lucifer. With some _interesting_ playmates.”

“Really now.”

“Oh **yes**. Most assuredly so.”

Lane held the car door for the hellions, speaking in a quiet voice to Maze. Lucifer listened idly as he stretched upon exiting; finding it far more riveting how a deep inhale flooded his lungs and brain with a rush of sensation-laden oxygen. He was more intrinsically aware of himself in this body, if that were possible, and couldn’t wait to try it out. He spoke impatiently over the last of their conversation ‘I’ll wait for your call – pick you up whenever’, wanting to explore. Now.

“Come ON, Maze. Show me this ‘surprise’ you’ve been shielding with such tenacity.”

His demon looped her arm lightly through his own and walked them down a softly-lit path through a lush water-garden to a sweeping glass front entrance. The large, isolated house seemed quiet, but her knock was answered almost immediately by a soft voice through the intercom.

“Yes?”

“Here for the ‘altered states’ event. Two.” They both glanced up at the low hum of a security camera panned over them from the top of the porch overhang.

“Your passphrase?”

“Succulent incubus.” Lucifer smiled at Maze as she spoke, mouthing the word ‘lovely’ at her. She grinned back and winked.

“Welcome. Please come in, and take the elevator on your left up to the third floor.”

As they entered the dim foyer they saw no one, but easily found the elevator adjacently catty-corner and Maze whisked him in.

“’Altered states’, hey? Like we’re in now?” Lucifer ran a hand over her bare arm, fascinated at how her softly resilient skin felt. Different but the same. Intriguing.

“You’ll see. Keep an open mind. Might be…interesting.”

“I relish ‘ **interesting** ’. And don’t I always?”

The demon tried not to roll her eyes regarding his perception of what an open mind consisted of, at least as it pertained to himself. Yes and no. And the fact that he could not see that was a large deficit actually, not that she’d try to point this out. Locked door opening to a cement wall that conversation would likely be. Besides, they were on vacation, and all things serious were to be happily banished by her estimation. For the short time she anticipated this lasting, anyway.

As the doors of the elevator hushed open they were greeted by a man and woman behind a bar. The woman was breathtaking; a stately redhead with alabaster skin. Seated in a wheelchair as she was, she turned to the equally attractive man, communicating with the deft movements of her hands their guests’ choice of beverage from the high shelf behind the bar. Lucifer returned the man’s engaging smile, and felt the tingling brush of warm fingers over his as he accepted his drink. Interesting indeed. Laden tumblers in hand, Maze and Lucifer wandered away, taking in the expansive room with many nooks, open balcony beyond…and the occupants.

“What was going on with that fine-looking chap?”

“He’s deaf. She was speaking sign language to him.”

“You don’t say.” He’d never understood why his father allowed apparent flaw in creation. Imperfection seemed to go against the grain of the grand design, but then again, he’d clearly wasn’t privy to his father’s rationale. For anything or anyone, including himself. He shook off the thought with mild irritation. Good riddance. No longer any concern of **his** , that mess, though he’d yet to tell his demon how extensive he intended his ‘sabbatical’ here to be.

He listened closely as Maze spoke, giving him a quick background on these circumstances. This event targeted a specific kink: bringing those with and without physical alterations together for sheer indulgence of their differences. He smiled as his demon explained that many people deemed ‘damaged’ by society in general were annoyed if not downright angry at their treatment. It was not their choice to be forced into roles of inspiration, ridicule or even limitation in day-to-day activities, and trying as most did to simply navigate a world not wholly suited to them was unsatisfactory. Wanting to wield power uniquely their own, some in this local area clandestinely arranged exclusive parties such as this one, where the able-bodied were the ones vetted and evaluated before being allowed admittance. Lucifer understood this feeling of wanting control over one’s ostracized existence very well, thanks much, and found himself intrigued. And aroused, thanks to both the concept and the earlier fizzy precursor.

Mazikeen watched the look of amused provocation glow over Lucifer’s fine features. She’d known this would appeal to him on several levels and loved to see the pleasure in his expression. Self-confidence, free will, and dominance over one’s situation no matter the circumstances…all these things plus the obvious he found engaging. Every single person here, be they guest or host had one thing in common: they were all **incredibly attractive** , whether it be in mere physicality or force of personality. Knowing the latter was most appealing to him, despite his obvious (and frequent) appreciation for the superficial Maze turned him loose with a little shove.

“Go play. I’ll see you later.”

With hardly a backwards glance he sauntered off toward the balcony and she smiled at that. After eons without them he was drawn to the stars like a moth to a flame. Yet another bit of obviousness she’d be loath to point out. Her smile grew as she heard a teasing foray flung out from behind and below her.

“Hel- **lo** , gorgeous. Care for a seat?”

Maze turned to look at the man in a manual sport wheelchair. Golden skin, spiky ice blond hair and piercing blue eyes were just the cherry on top of the delicious treat of strong shoulders and arms flexing under the expensive fabric of his shirt. One hand reached toward her and the other patted his lap. Both legs seemed to taper to an end just under his knees and were tucked into a tight sling.

“Car accident?”

The man snorted. “Nothing so ordinary. Surfing. Shark attack.”

Maze graced him with a slow smile as she allowed herself to be pulled in. She ran an appreciative finger down his chest, murmuring “Oh…I just adore riding waves. And I’m really,” leaning in to nip his ear, “… **really** great at it.”

“Good thing.” The deep voice warmed in a mock coquettish tone. “I’m tired of amateurs. I’ve got an impressive longboard and there’s a pretty stiff breeze coming on.”

“ _Fantastic_. Show me.” She even surprised herself with a quick reactionary yelp of happy shock as her new friend popped a wheelie and scooted them across the room to an alcove sheltered behind several large potted plants.

Lucifer spun back upon hearing her. And then chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the quick exit. Yes, Maze certainly seemed to be loosening up and finding herself to be happy in more pleasant situations than ashy persecution. And now, to find one – or a few – of those for himself.

He walked out toward the long balcony, drinking deep draughts of the night air. Skin tingling with anticipation and the acuity of all his senses blended to skate a razor edge of his heightened awareness. What a fun little tidbit that choice of inebriant was! Sipping his drink slowly, he made a note to remember it. Scanning, his eyes caught a profiled silhouette toward one end of the wide expanse. Ah. Now **that** looked like an interesting way to explore this pleasant rush he had. He walked closer toward the low couch she reclined on, but seemingly lost in contemplative reverie the woman didn’t turn at his approach. However, the large German Shepard at her feet did, and appraised him silently before once more laying a formidable-looking jaw down on his front paws. Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek, a momentary pang lacing across his chest before he spoke.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

She turned her head quickly to the new voice, smile dancing on her lips and graceful hand waving in front of her face.

“If you say so.”

Lucifer looked closer. The sclera of her eyes were pearly and opaque. Blind. Well, that explained the quietly attentive dog and the slender cane he could now see on the other side of her. “Sorry, love.”

“For what? You didn’t do it.”

He laughed, enjoying her spirit. “Mind if I sit? Harmless, I assure you.”

“Well, that’s kind of dull. Not why I came tonight, but whatever.” She slid her cane to the ground just in front of her feet, and circled her palm over the soft cushion next to her. “You have a nice voice. If you’re too stupid for conversation you could just read the oven manual to me or something. I might be able to get off on just that.”

He laughed again at the strength and wit. Yes, he’d definitely have to commend Maze on her choice of venue later. As the demon had just left him to fend he wasn’t sure what the rules were, nor was he sure he particularly cared if there were any at all. However, of the many things he was, obnoxiously overbearing where it wasn’t clearly understood as part of humor wasn’t it. So…

“Do ‘be gentle’ darling. I’m a virgin to gatherings such as this. Your name? Or is that not part of the game?”

The woman chuckled softly. “Usually no. Keeps things simpler after. And you sure don’t sound as if you need to be treated with kid gloves, although if it’s a kink of yours I suppose I might consider it.” She canted her head slightly as Lucifer smiled into the sip of his drink. “Macallan?”

“Indeed. Sharp nose.”

“Years of practice,” she snorted somewhat derisively.

Lucifer’s grin widened as she declined his offer to get her a drink, quipping ‘what need have I of that when this is…’ plucking the tumbler from his grasp with uncanny accuracy “…right here?’ He took her in: long, luxurious blue-black hair swept from a side part to pool down one shoulder, fired copper skin peeking from a loosely belted ivory dress and her eyes…fascinating. Rather than detracting from her chiseled features the pearls of them were lustrous under dark lashes. “Beautiful, you are.”

“I’ve heard. Doesn’t really mean anything to me, though.” She gave a gentle shrug that allowed the drape of the dress to glide over a full breast and gracefully toned arm. Appreciating the view, Lucifer leaned in a little closer, cupping his hand gently around hers and bringing the rim to his mouth for another sip before speaking again.

“Well, ‘eye of the beholder’ and all that. Regardless, my word is my bond AND **my** vision is perfect. Also, not as if you can tell, but I’m rather beautiful as well. You’re missing out.”

“Rather ‘see’ for myself, thanks.” The woman smiled, handing him back the tumbler. “Ever heard of Braille?”

“No. Educate me. I **love** learning new things.” He managed to slather voluptuously erotic amusement into every nuance of each word and was pleased to hear her return it in reply.

“It’s how the blind read. We use our fingertips. So…how about let me ‘read’ you and decide for myself?”

“Certainly, darling. Have at.” Lucifer sank into the deep cushions as she shifted to face him. He closed his eyes as the soft pads of her fingertips whispered over his face, sweeping across his brow and cheekbones first. Sighing, he tilted his head back further into as she moved over him. A drizzle of spring rain touches washed down his neck and chest and he didn’t know if it was the substances he’d imbibed or just the woman herself, but this felt…amazing. “Lovely indeed, Braille is,” was what he let escape within a low breath.

“Enjoying this?” Even with his eyes still closed he could hear the smile in her voice. He responded with the same light amusement.

“Keep on as you are and you’ll ‘see’ how much.”

Her laughter, alluring as the rest of her, sparkled over him as the stars did the clear night sky above the lonely house in the canyon. “Oh is that so? You’ve quite an elevated opinion of yourself. Impressive.”

“Not opinion darling; fact. And at the moment, not nearly the only impressive thing ‘elevated’.”

She laughed harder, enjoying him. “Well aren’t you brash? Must be quite a handful in your real life.”

“Oh I am. At least two, actually. Care to find out?” With a sly whisper of a kiss upon the slender wrist he’d caught, Lucifer was pleased to see her catch her breath and her bottom lip in her teeth. He became slightly perplexed at her next words, but quickly realized the game was more intricate than he’d initially thought. And he did **so** love to play.

Her voice, low and husky now, rippled against his ear. “I’m to be touched, not the other way around. However, my friend,” here she lay supple fingers against the line of his jaw and turned his head, “…would just love to pick up any slack. In yours. If there is.” She giggled at his low response of 'trousers. and at that moment, no. bit constrained, really'. Entranced as he’d been Lucifer hadn’t realized that another person had come to sit on the far end of the long couch. The lithe man was of the same rich skin tone and black hair as the woman, and the soft swathe of his white linen pants let Lucifer know how intensely interested he was in their conversation.

“He’s a mute. Just nod if you’re of a mind.”

“Oh my dear, I can certainly do better than that.” Lucifer turned slightly to the man and smiled, running his tongue under his lip and extending his hand as he did so. The man returned a smile of his own as he moved, brilliantly white teeth flashing at Lucifer’s invitation.

“He looks like you. What’s the connec… **oh**. My. Well, hello indeed.”

The woman chuckled, realizing her companion must have come closer. “We’re lifelong friends. Part of an adoption cohort. He, unlike me, is not to be touched. Besides, your hands should have more than enough to occupy them. No mouth kissing. No removing clothing. And keep talking. I like your voice.”

“As you ask.”

Lucifer, presented with delectable options to explore in front, and a strong grip on his hip in back was more than willing to play by their rules. The woman dissolved under his hands as he stroked over the supple body writhing under the soft material. He kept his word, caressing her ears with susurrations explaining exactly what he was going to do next as he touched her. Shared pleasure was as much of a head game as physical contact and he was quite skilled at both. Nor was his enjoyment in any way one-sided. The man behind him was tight up against his back, gently pressing what had to be an increasingly uncomfortable hard-on into the curve of his backside. He was quite attractive in his own right, and Lucifer would have had no trouble exploring **all** of his options, but free-will was something he respected, so…. Besides, the contact was just fueling his own explorations, and the illegal substances flung the entire experience into a completely different dimension. Oh yes, he was  so going to do this again. Abso-bloody-lutely. And soon.

By the time he asked if he was allowed to reach **under** the dress, he’d driven the woman beyond words. Gasping, she took his hand and ran it up her thigh under the long skirt. Beyond pleased to discover no other items of clothing underneath he swept gentle fingers over her.

“So soft, so wet…just lovely, darling. How very good I’m going to make you feel now….”

Lucifer suddenly found it a little more difficult to speak as a strong hand slid to cover his fly. He groaned through a smile, bucking under the pressure, and caught his breath in relief as he felt his buttons and zipper released. Oh, the warmth of that hand on him, the hot breathy gasps in his ear as the man scoured himself against the back of his thigh…he struggled to concentrate properly on the work of his hand. Long fingers curved gently inside the woman looking for that magical spot that he’d learned was a fast track to glazed eyes and heaving bodies. Oh yes, there…perfect. Smiling, he rolled an easy thumb over the small tight knot of nerves as well and leaned in to kiss the racing pulse in her neck as he talked her through it.

“Just there my dear, so close, yeah? That’s right…let me…yes, **yes** …there you go… **oh lovely**.”

She arched under his hand, her deep inhale pressing the ample breasts he’d buried his face between tighter against his grin. He bit at her nipples through the fabric, shocking her sideways into another orgasm. She quickly became too sensitive to be touched further and pushed his hand away, but did it with a delighted smile. Still breathless, she pushed his shoulders back flat against the couch as the man shifted to drop upon his knees between Lucifer’s long legs. “I’ve changed my mind. You can kiss me. I want to feel you in my mouth when you come.”

Lost under the attentions of the woman’s soft lips and pliant tongue, Lucifer buried his hands in her long hair, pulling her closer. Eyes closed, he felt the man’s touch change from warm hand to warmer mouth and strained up to meet him. Under the auspices of the dual courtesies he was being paid and the heightened sensual influence of the drugs he felt the closest he had to the feeling of flight since time out of mind. Nearly deconstructed under the rush of sensation Lucifer reached a hand down to cup the man’s head, but was halted with a gentle rebuke. “No touching him. Touch this instead.” She lay his hand over her breast and Lucifer growled as he rubbed a thumb over her tight nipple, much as the man was teasing his own swollen tip with a wanton mouth. Growing impatient, he shifted to slide one leg between the man’s thighs and felt him start grinding, opening his throat to take him in fully as he did so. **Hell** yes to  that.

A short time later all three were sprawled together, breathless and chuckling on the couch, Lucifer’s long arms loosely slung around both their shoulders and clothes in disarray. The man gathered himself and left first, smiling a ‘no, thank you’ at the devil’s offer of a handkerchief as he pulled out one of his own. He took a further minute to brush back the fall of thick hair behind the woman’s shoulder, pressing a deep kiss into her neck. She grinned at his ‘well, that was lovely’ and admonished him to go see what other trouble he could get into.

“It’s what I do best, my dear. Thanks, ever so for the truly splendid introduction.” He kissed her hand as he left, pleased to still see the flush on her cheeks and wide smile. He puzzled as he walked away; how did anyone wind up in his old domain with how wonderful some of these mortal sensations could be? Surely these were far more interesting pursuits than cruelty or violence? Such baffling creatures, mortals were.

Over the course of the rest of the night, Lucifer caught a few glimpses of Maze, and his demon seemed to be having as fantastic a time as he was. He learned a great deal more about humans as well. If one or more of their five senses were damaged, the others were usually heightened to his (and their) delight in discovery. Prosthetic limbs removed usually revealed sensitive nerve endings, perfect for exploration with tongue and teeth. Age and alteration of form or function had little to do with the confidence and passion he found most stimulating as he was wont to discover over and again in a dizzying array of variety. Maze finally found him near dawn slammed up against a wall receiving the best oral he’d had yet on this plane from a little person. He was nearly too done in to reciprocate properly, but fortunately his demon stepped in to save his tender ass. Knees buckled and slumped upon the floor in exhaustion, snickering and buried under two gorgeous women of very differing heights he finally threw up the white flag.

“I’m demolished, Mazie. Utterly **spent**.”

Lovely blue eyes appraised him as the tiny human ran a delicate hand under his jaw. “It’s about time. I’ve kept my eye on you tonight – both of you.” she smiled as she stroked over the dusky shoulder. “I run these events, and you’ve been charming guests. Interesting, open-minded, generous in your attentions…” she ran a soft thumb over Mazikeen’s lower lip, grinning wider as she earned a small nip in thanks. “…you’ve seen we’re not so very different after all, and will be invited back in the future, if you wish. Although I do expect to find **you** rather earlier in the evening than later as I believe you owe me a debt another has paid in your stead.” Her eyes flashed suggestively and Lucifer laughed.

“It’s not usually my position to be the one in arrears, but I assure you my dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be beholden to one as talented as you. As it will certainly be yours, the pleasure aspect that is. Of this I am certain. Forgive me my momentary weakness, please.”

“If that mouth works as prettily in acts of delectation as it does in words, I shall indeed be looking forward to seeing you - both – again in the future.” With that, she stood, straightened her clothing, and left with a wink to Lucifer and a brief kiss to the side of Maze’s head as the demon sat beside her boss on the floor.

The hellions both watched her move off, appreciating the view from behind. Maze yawned and stretched her slender arms up, then leaned heavily on Lucifer’s shoulder. He groaned, laughing and tipped his head back on the wall as he slid a long leg out to brace himself.

“Don’t press too hard, Maze. I’m in danger of collapse. How…bloody fantastic that was! Such verve. Such **drive**. It’s breathtaking, really.”

“Glad you had fun. I did, too. I love a healthy appetite….so enjoyable to see it this way instead of…” her voice dropped off a little.

Lucifer rubbed her shoulder affectionately. “Like home. I know, darling. But this is part of the fun in changed scene, yes? Seeing the differences? Not just between here and…elsewhere…but between these confusing creatures as well. Who knew that differences could be so galvanizing for some of them?”

“Exactly.” She pulled her phone out, hoping Lane was close by with their transport. Maze was as exhausted by the long night’s frolic as Lucifer, and for once, could not wait to use her soft bed for sleep rather than sport. “Makes you wonder why all these people can’t see more similarities rather than their differences. Not just this sort of physicality, but their colors, their backgrounds: I find those differences the most interesting bit of these ‘meat suits over vapor’…and why do **any** of them wind up with us if there’s this much fun to be had??!”

Lucifer looked over at her. “I found myself thinking the same thing, darling. A conundrum indeed. Well,” he winced, rising awkwardly and extending a hand to help her up, “…something else to puzzle over. Another time, as I’m in the mood for nothing now but a short shower and a long nap.”

Arm in arm they made their way out, smiling weary farewells to new playmates and rested on a bench in the water garden waiting for Lane. Fortunately not a long wait, as they were nearly falling asleep propped up against each other.

The man smiled, taking their total deconstruction in as the limousine pulled up. Yes, happy customers indeed. He had a feeling he’d be seeing a great deal more of these two. There was just…something quite unique about them.

##########################################################################

Of all the bizarre stories Lucifer told her, this one just had to take the deviant cake. All Chloe Decker wanted was to pound her head against the steering wheel clenched under her white-knuckled grip. Ridiculously unbelievable stretched truths this man insisted on. And now that included incomprehensible ones involving a fragile portion of the greater LA population. Yet another reason the man was insane.

“Lucifer. Seriously. We’re supposed to be on our way to finding Yellow Viper at a community center, of all things, which is weird enough even without you adding crazy stories! All I wanted to know was why in the middle of a case we had to come to a screeching halt. At a post office for the love of god.”

She heard an insulted exhale from the seat beside her. “I assure you, Detective, neither **my father** nor **love** have  anything to do with this. GLORIOUS FUN here; not laborious effort such as either of **those** require. Not that you’re well-acquainted with the concept of levity it seems. Weren’t you listening? I’ve a recurrent invitation to this privately sponsored event. In the interest of everyone’s privacy they lease a different location each time so untraceable dues, due.” He did snicker at his own wit here. “Therefore money order and stamps required, darling.”

Chloe groaned. The man could bounce back rapidly from anything, it seemed and found himself particularly amusing. She cringed as she heard the sly lick of dare run through his next choice of words, emphasis particularly on the last phrase.

“You did understand it’s a sex party, Detective…want to come?”


	4. Alterations and Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some hinting whys of hows (clothes, art, children, music, Lux, wings). Darker, delvier than the others so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Description of exhibit at LA art museum is real, taken from the original website in the timeline of their arrival. I figured Lucifer being a nosy nelly and fascinated with human-y things might be interested in some more highbrow stuff (enjoyed in a low-brow manner, lol) than Maze. Also...those tidbits in his house had to come from someplace ;-)

[ - ]

“Nice, my lord. **Suits you**.” She giggled a little bit at her own attempt at this ‘humor’; a harmlessly appealing new addition to her longstanding forms of amusement. So far she preferred physical absurdity like the slapstick Three Stooges or even Tom and Jerry, but as Lucifer liked wordplay she was trying that out as well.

The whiplashed looks launched off the carpeted dais from both the man kneeling with a tape measure and the one standing in the piecemeal of couture Armani were exactly the same: bemused shock. The first ripened into wider-eyed awe as he took in the ‘so?’ expression on the striking (literally when necessary) woman wearing a lot of attitude and some leather – and not much else. The tape measure rolled away from his hand; a lolling dangle of a cartoonish tongue. Maze nearly laughed aloud as she thought of the appropriate sound effect to accompany – “Aaa-OOO-gah!”. Yes, old-school animations before the days of pabulum PC were much more fun indeed. Her joy dimmed when she saw Lucifer’s rebuking expression. The Devil had pursed his lip, dropped his chin and glared. If he’d said it twice, he’d said it once too many times....

She narrowed her eyes. Fine then. By her estimation both of them deserved a cream pie in the puss. Not the fun kind. Go Moe.

“Oh, she’s just gone coloring outside the lines with some role-play,” Lucifer wiggled long fingers and swept his arm up and down in front of Maze’s outfit “…as you can likely surmise by **her** options for dress. All fine; never you mind. Keep on.”

Casting a reproachful side-eye at her.

“Whatever.” She was powerful in her own right. Addressing him as ‘My Lord’ wasn’t a slight to her at all. He *was* a lord, of their Hell and he most certainly was **hers**. To protect, placate and apparently entertain on field trips. Often, now.

And he was a real idiot sometimes as well. Especially with these creatures.

Who cares what **they** thought? It’s not as if their opinions or misplaced ideas of permanent control over their existences lasted long anyway. Mortals and their fallible follies - hmph.

Mazikeen crossed her arms and waited impatiently as the wizened man finished pinning the cuffs and inseam on Lucifer’s new trousers and sent him back to change. In the brief time that took she’d made the clerk decidedly more uncomfortable by staring unblinkingly at him, and then tried smiling instead just to see what would happen. By the respondent hard swallow stuttering down that turkey neck of his, her grin was probably more threatening. Ugh, amusing though this was, she found perceived weakness to be repugnant.

‘And bor-ing’, she singsonged to herself, taking a page from her boss.

Maze steeped her icy glance in warm irritation as Lucifer returned, squandering time both time and money soothing the man with cool words and cooler cash in making arrangements for his final fitting. He beat a hasty exit from the shop pushing her by the small of her back; yet another place on Rodeo Drive his demon would find herself unwelcome.

Not that she cared, overmuch.

She slipped an arm through his as they walked, scraping lacquered nails over the luscious material of his sleeve. “Why are **you** even _bothering_ with human clothing when you can manifest something this…toothsome so easily?” She bit him on the shoulder, deliberately ignoring the option of discretion.

Laughing, he shrugged her off. “Because Maze, that’s not what I’m about now! Already bad enough the higher-end shop tailors get crossed eyes when they touch it; can’t hide a good whim and wish blend. Besides, I like this,” gesturing at the pomp and circumstance of well-dressed and coiffed people throwing money to quench the fire of their underlying psychosis, “… _this_ sort of hustle and bustle is **fun**! And I want to be properly recognized as the best of their best. IN their best. So…indulge me, won’t you?”

“I AM.” She grumbled here, but found herself reluctantly smiling as he purred in her ear. It derailed completely into a grimace at his next suggestion.

“Feh, NO. Bored enough already this morning. So for that, Lucifer **my lord** , you’re on your own. If I wanted to see what these humans could come up with I’d be part of the process. I’d get more out of it. Actually…” here she tapped her shining teeth with a long nail, looking delectably diabolical, “…not a bad way to spend an afternoon. I’ll see you for dinner. I’m sure I’ll have worked up an appetite by then. _Ta darling!”_

Blowing a haughty air kiss with her last mock of his accent (that she still found a slightly silly affectation), he watched her saunter off, pulling his grin wider as he enjoyed the parting shot of a deliberately provocative leather-clad swagger. Men **and** women scrambled slightly to move out of her way, perhaps sensing her feral danger…but by the looks of appreciation eddied in her wake it seemed these creatures did find his demon to be singularly interesting.

If they only knew.

He shook his head with a soft chuckle, spinning on the arterially red heel of his Louboutin and raising one hand to hail his driver. As he watch the car approach he grumbled a bit to himself, wanting a toy of his own. Hmm. He was reveling in the independence from his more ghastly responsibilities; why not more of it in pursuit of some fun? As Lucifer settled himself in and let his eyes adjust from the dazzle of sunshine to the cool interior of the car he thought, ‘Yes…a little staid for my liking, this antiseptic bubble. This world feels more real when one’s better a part of it.’ He was jostled from his thoughts by the voice through the slider.

“Where to now, sir?”

“5905 Wilshire.”

“The Art Museum?”

“Exactly.”

>

As his driver navigated the snarls of LA Lucifer idly observed the hustle and flow of people and vehicle outside his tinted window. Swirling eddies of both glutted the streets and sidewalks like schools of fish or flocks of birds; strange there weren’t more collisions. Benefits of instinctual groupthink he supposed; so very odd and even vaguely repugnant. He felt alienated behind the glass even though the estrangement from his environment was thin. Like Hell, this was. Separated from them by the specific constructs of the souls he honed, proximity had very little to do with reciprocal interaction. For all their errant thoughts on the matter, most humans - if they considered it at all - thought Hell to be a storm of violent noise…shrieks and wails of the damned blah, blah, blah, et cetera. And they could not be more wrong. The rictus of malevolent hush was one of the worst aspects of punishment his father could have dealt; not simply the noxiousness of the actual work needing done, but foisting upon such as him this degree of personal isolation in doing it. And the deep wallow of silence…nothing like it anywhere else in creation, and barely any relief. He interacted with very few of the denizens other than Maze, and even so, fulfillment of their roles meant long gaps in contact. And as much as he was enjoying the physicality and copious contiguity of this earthly plane it was sometimes still a bit overwhelming after all that solitary barrenness. However, still and for now, that alteration remained his preference. Under his own control for a welcome change, this adjustment was. The car slowed down and as the driver parked Lucifer wrested himself from his thoughts – good. More than enough of that. Too much introspection brought an unwelcomely eerie reminder of some of the reasons behind his final drive to escape.

Happy to be once more striding along in the flux of people and sensation he wandered around a bit outside before a colorful display caught his eye…hmm, wasn’t this interesting? Reading the placard outside the Pavilion he felt the edges of his mouth lift, raising the curtain on an approvingly toothy smile.

**Eye for the Sensual: Selections from the Resnick Collection**

Well that sounded promising. Let’s see now…

_While particularly famous for its important eighteenth-century French paintings—including works by François Boucher, Élisabeth-Louise Vigée-Lebrun, Jean-Honoré Fragonard—the Resnick collection also includes a variety of other European works by artists including Peter Paul Rubens, Francesco Guardi and Henri Lehman, as well as a rare religious composition by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres._

He sniggered somewhat on the last, figuring family portraiture would be the least likely portion of the exhibit to hold his interest. Squander his time ogling those insipid bastards? Not bloody likely. He read further.

_The exhibition also reflects the Resnicks' passion for sculpture, for example in works by Clodion, Jean-Antoine Houdon, and Nicolas-Sébastien Adam, among others._

Mmmm. Three-dimensional appreciation: now this he could get behind. As he had recently, although in different settings as well as states of dress. He chuckled a bit, thinking. Lost in warm, wistful daydreams he meandered down the light-quenched space, enjoying himself. They could be so creative, these creatures of his Father’s…for good or ill in equal measure, it seemed. Peeking around surreptitiously before acting, he skimmed an inquisitive fingertip over the coldly pert nipple of the woman in Faune Pleurant, rather hoping Maze wouldn’t wear herself out completely before evening.

“Sir? Sir! You’re not supposed to handle the art!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, being fairly certain the terracotta lady did not mind seeing as she’d been in this state for quite some time with no quarter given. “I see. Well. Are you offering me an alternative, then?” He turned to face this spoiler of fun and the mischievous trace of his smile lines deepened. Oooh, some entertainment to be had here….

His accuser was tall, seemed a strange combination of accidently beautiful and awkwardly lanky and it seemed as if said awkwardness had a hold on her elsewhere as well. He took in her look of unconscious appraisement and smiled more broadly, preening as he did.

“Like what you see? Go on then, you can touch. I’ve few of the objections you seem to think the art has.”

The complex reaction of flush and stammer amused him further. Humans indeed seemed simply variations of storms in teacups within their mortal state.

“I’m – I’m **in a relationship**!”

“Not a satisfactorily satiating one it would seem; at least not by that hungry glance. Unless you and your anemic playmate have some sort of agreement – good on you both then; many of you simply pine away in quiet desperation it seems.”

The woman felt her blush deepen, knowing that she was involuntarily looking over him once again.

“Dearie me, such a conundrum for you, is it? I frankly don’t understand – oh, not just you. And not just this.” He tossed an elegant hand back and forth between his chest and hers, smiling more as he watched her inch closer, apparently unaware of the fact that it was her body betraying her, not her convictions. “Many here seem to be caught in the same fix. Why? Who’s the injured party if you let yourself **enjoy** your time here more completely, hey?” He took in the darkening of the blue eyes behind her hornrims at his emphasis of the word ‘enjoy’. He’d not done it purposefully; he was simply expressive but this was something he’d begun to notice…the human response to his voice when he was intent on something. ‘A rough little nugget to polish later’, Lucifer mused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The woman’s bony hands fluttered; naked broken birds flickering over her dowdy slacks, then her shapeless blazer with slightly skewed nametag and finally alighting on her chained glasses. She removed them to wipe the clouded lenses with a crumpled tissue from her side pocket, looking for a way to settle herself. What a strange man! And what a stranger reaction she was having to him! Her girlfriend would be appalled; not that she’d ever tell.

“Oh no, darling. Allow me. You should at least see clearly what you’re refusing.” Lucifer stepped right into her personal space (ridiculous concept that, when considered from a quantum level) and held one hand over hers as he polished the lenses with his linen Giovanni pocket square. Holding the temples of her glasses gently he gave her astonished baby blues a long look before delicately replacing them on her face. “Lovely eyes, those are. Judiciously ‘come hither’ with a hint of shrewdness. You should perhaps consider contacts.” He let his tongue slip along the side of his mouth and watched her lean in closer, having no intentions other than simple curiosity about what she might be harboring behind the prim exterior. A raucous noise shattering through the entrance disrupted the reverie and Lucifer looked over her shoulder in annoyance as she spun around. Bloody hell, really?

“Oh! My two o’clock tour is here.” ‘And just in the nick of time’ was the follow-up thought erupting from somewhere north of her weak knees.

“What, you need to deal with those? Whyever for?” Lucifer eyed the approaching gaggle of third-graders and haggard-looking teacher caught in their wake with genuine malevolence. It was the first time he’d seen children herded together in this way, and he wasn’t impressed. Repulsed, even. En masse, they reminded him of sniveling little demons; nasty and detrimental to his peace of mind. If he was going to be thwarted by personal will that was one thing. Being shunted off due to this untidy riot was quite another. ‘Loathsome’, he thought, shuddering.

“It’s my job, Mr…?”

“Morningstar.” He sighed. The woman was clearly collecting herself and girding her mental loins in advance of this unwelcome invasion. Opportunity, like Paradise, lost for the moment. He sighed again, but then recovering some of his earlier aplomb he leaned to kiss her hand, better appreciating the breast and fluttering heart underneath her nametag by searing his gaze through it. Making certain she could feel the heat of it as he looked up – yes, lovely that responsive flush on her skin was. “Pleasure to ‘barely meet’ you, Abigail, is it? Though I confess, I’d have rather seen you more…bare. Another time, perhaps.”

She giggled despite herself, and the soft wisp of _‘morningstar’_ crossed her lips with the same breathy laugh.

He smiled at her, then trialed his earlier thought. “Yes. **Lucifer**.” With the intention of provocation snaking as a conduit through his voice, yes, she did indeed react, simpering.  Very interesting…have to play more with that. But not here and certainly not now what with the infestation of these mood-pirates. Ugh. He now found himself surrounded by the mob of unruly, fidgety, likely filthy children and could not extricate himself quickly enough. With nary a backwards glance he swept out, contemplative mood disrupted by their shrilly nattering yaps. Despite the distractions he still felt vaguely unsettled and after a brief conversation with his waiting driver he dismissed the man to embark on the long walk back the loft he shared with Maze.

>

Hands in pockets he whiled away time as he strolled, observing everything. He had near-insatiable curiosity and it had gotten him into trouble more often than not, but who was he to question his own design, although that courtesy was not paid as a matter of course to the designer. Feh. He gave himself a slight shake, longing to be eventually free in mind as he was in body at the moment. His sensitive ears pricked and as almost always, he followed his whims. Down a long block and a quick jaunt across the street…ah. There.

He looked up at the sign before stepping closer to the thick plate glass of the large display window. Steinway Piano Gallery, eh? The harsh gleam from the white building and angle of sun prevented him from seeing inside until he came close enough for the shadow of his body to blunt the glare. Well then. **There** we are now. Lucifer resisted the urge to cup his hands around his eyes and press his nose to the pane.

Seated with his back to the street outside, a tall man with graceful arms and elegant fingers was playing one of the pianos. He had dark blond hair pared in a disconnected undercut, was dressed in a tastefully understated steel grey suit and with lissome movements he was pulling magic from the keys. Beautiful. The music as well as the man. Drawn by both, Lucifer watched unobtrusively for a few moments before entering.

The human must have realized he was there, but still took a slightly-longer-than-custom-for-waiting-customer hesitation before finishing and looking up. The sigh was barely audible, but it amused Lucifer nonetheless: the broker been enjoying himself and resented the disturbance. Cheeky. And marvelous…. As the man rose to greet him, the Devil saw the suit matched the grey eyes that raked him with mild appraisement. He was but a whisper shorter and his build was more solid than Lucifer’s own, but held lightness and grace within the form. Marvelous again.

“My apologies for any offense in your wait. Been a trying day and I was taking a moment to myself. Gideon Ilan now graciously at your service. How many I assist you?” He extended a hand out and Lucifer took it, pressing slowly.

“Interesting.”

The man’s eyebrows raised slightly although the clasp of his hand remained strong.

“Sorry,” Lucifer let a slow grin wash his face, “didn’t mean to be off-putting. Bit of a back-parlor philologist. Your name; it means ‘feller of trees’ in Aramaic. I’ve a younger brother and some of his friends who would’ve found that skill to be handy.”

“Mmm. And here I simply thought my parents were fans of classic haiku. Or assonance.”

Lucifer chuckled. Pretty and intelligent this one was.

“So, preliminary witty repartee aside, how may I help you Mr…?”

“…Morningstar. Lucifer Morningstar.”

Without missing a beat the blond retorted, “It also seems that possibly unlike yours, my parents had less lofty, or at least more anodyne goals for their son.”

Instead of feeling needled, Lucifer laughed aloud. FUN. “Perhaps you’re right; final verdict not leveled yet, I’m afraid.”

“So.”

“So…tell me about this instrument?”

“This one in particular, or pianos?”

“Both.”

Gideon smiled in arch amusement. Then he relaxed, albeit cautiously, observing the man more intently. This dark stranger might be an enigma, but he could tell the interest was genuine and piano was his own great adoration. He began to speak, quickly inviting Lucifer to sit beside him as he extolled the virtues of the heirloom grand at their fingertips. Lucifer listened, at first simply amused by the fetching human and his lovely toy, but then found himself paying closer attention as the man began to put into words what he’d always felt about his own music. That linear time could pause long enough for infinity to spin in one note. That it could make hearts mend and break; often simultaneously. That the hidden could be pulled on display not only for the musician but the audience as well; like voluntarily ripping one’s spine out through your mind and taking the attached entrails of your soul along with. Music ran the full gamut of shine and joy and despair and longing and was a supple harness to tame wild forever down into an instant and ride it back out again, listeners and creators alike changed by the journey. It seemed only the scale and methodology differed between musicians light and dark together on the piano bench.

The man’s words opened Lucifer unexpectedly. It had been so long, so very achingly long since he’d had anyone to share this love with…his most precious gift that he’d safely crushed away inside his spirit so well he’d nearly forgotten how deeply it permeated…how could he have?

Lucifer had strung the fervid radiance of stars amongst the heavens on chains of harmony and celebrated it. Wavelengths of light and sound were axial reflections cruxing with one another and passion was the medium through which they coursed. Passion he’d been created to express. In this unlikely little corner of creation was the doppelgänger of his own lucent shadow as by way of his words, the MorningStar knew this finite creature had the hollow echo of this imprinted on his very soul. The gift was lovely and precious and to be treated with care…and in this human, it was. Lucifer was rapt as the man drew simple, pure notes from the keys as he spoke, singly then in combination, creating haunting arrangements of layered sound and silence both. Lovely. His own fingertips were itching to touch them; both the deceptively simple keys as well as the talented hands weaving their yield. He sighed in appreciation for both art and artist, leaning in just slightly to Gideon’s shoulder and did not feel him draw away. Music, and someone who might indeed understand some little aspect of its ken for him, oh yes…such exquisitely complex sensations he’d unexpectedly found here. As always, he wanted more. He rested a breath closer and thought he might’ve noticed the man press back. Maybe….

The heady thrall was disrupted by an unwelcome intrusion. A fine example of LA’s plastique perfection bedecked in all of the false glories of affluence intruded with her nasal shrill, her affectations, her nanny and the three squalling brats she claimed by proximity if not motherly warmth. Lucifer’s upper lip curled in disgust at the scene before him: Gideon excusing himself and dampening the light he’d been allowing to glow and gingerly engaging this…farce. No genuine interest here, only simple pretense and not even well-veiled in basic manners. Foul. The woman was demanding a piece appropriate for her ‘very upscale home’ and sufficient for her childrens’ elucidation; present and future. Ugh, children. **Spawn** , more like, seeing the low level of interest the glittery vacancy had in her own progeny. The Devil decided that yes, he did truly despise them. Feckless, feral creatures resulting in the divergently harried nature of the two women present and his own subsequent loss of now not one, but two missed opportunities this afternoon. Left his own devices he stroked tenderly over all the keys, instantly remembering what tones corresponded with which. Wishing to drown out the irritating noise of the rascals and their keepers he threaded a few collections of jeweled notes on torn strings of fragmentary melodies together, becoming accustomed to the play of the instrument. Entranced with this tool of remembered joy he continued to explore and was shocked out of his reverie by a jolting spasm in his back where wings lay hidden.

It had been so very, **very** long since he…no. Oh, too much, too close to surfacing. Father,  no. Of all the public ejaculations one could have, this sort would be the very worst.

Lucifer arrested himself, recoiling from the keys. He was surprised to see Gideon standing above him once more and the human’s eyes sharpened in evaluation. Something had happened here, but he wasn’t sure what.

“So, you play?”

‘Yes. With the birthlight of stars. But not this beguiling human instrument of yours’ was the silent thought. Aloud: “No, I’m afraid not.”

“Really. Surprising. You’ve an excellent ear and careful hand. This one, like most Steinways, has a slightly heavier touchweight action; about 55 grams. You handle it well.”

Usually Lucifer would be more than happy to embrace the obvious sensual clichés and construct some verbal foreplay, but he was surprised to discover this instrument had an unexpected siren call for him. He found the idea of using a human device to soothe some of the ache of divine loss oddly comforting. And perhaps appropriately fitting as well – after all wasn’t he on their plane in the first place to assuage the pangs of Hell? Wanting more he asked a few questions, simple in word and loaded in intention. Pleased with the rather one-sided conversation that followed he learned a few more things.

Formidably expensive pianos weren’t exactly flying out of the showroom on a regular basis and Gideon only worked here to supplement his own meager composer’s portfolio. Apparently he was a bit too avant garde for the local market, but refused to compromise his art to make it more palatable for his potential customers. As the man spoke, he played a bit of his own work, and Lucifer silently agreed – breathtaking stuff for a human, really. He considered what he was hearing as very Howard Roark-esque, but rather than fictional architecture it was a colorful tapestry of razor-fine auditory lace. Something quite appealing about that defiance, but he deliberately shunted away any other thought of comparison between them, focusing instead on being indignant over the poor reaction the musician’s work got. It seemed mortal as well as divine beings could be such doltish lemmings; only appreciating what they were ‘supposed’ to rather than thinking for themselves. Apparently Gideon was not overly successful as a broker either, since he found pandering to fools irritating, and though he might not say anything untoward, he had a tendency to show it. Sheer luck and good looks had carried him farther than manufactured charm, but it wasn’t enough lately to keep him competitive with the others here, largely dependent upon commission as their wages were. The man was in danger of being tossed out on his fine ass, but hadn’t yet decided if he cared. He surprised himself by speaking so plainly to this dark stranger and for his part, Lucifer was pleased to round out experimentations in letting persuasion saturate his voice. Turns out it didn’t take much with Gideon; perhaps as he was rather boldly unapologetic under his civil veneer. More commonalities.

“It would be terrific if you were genuinely interested.” The blonde sighed almost wistfully as he let the keys go silent under his fingers. Lucifer suddenly wished to feel them in his mouth; to taste the talent under the warm skin – **stop**.  Focus. Despite his own more reflective mood he was sorely tempted to tease at Gideon.

Well, why not? After all, it was only a tease if there was no follow-though, and it seemed there were more than a few avenues that might be…interesting to pursue here. So….

“What makes you think I’m not?”

The human chuckled, running a hand over his hair and one small lock twisted out of place in its wake. Lucifer badly wanted to reach over and smooth it down, but instead simply repeated his question and got a generous ladling of snark in response.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Other than the very occasional cretin such as just left, people who don’t play simply don’t waltz in the door and purchase one of these! Even the most basic is some serious coin.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose you’re correct. I **don’t** want to buy one.”

Gideon’s eyebrows flickered and he gifted Lucifer a small, quirked ‘of course not, what do you take me for’ smile.

“I want two. And the best of the best: I don’t do things half-measure.”

The expression blooming beside him was nearly as priceless as Lucifer’s offer, and the Devil grinned to himself. “I’ll be wanting a favor in return, though.”

The human had the decency to put effort in attempting to regain composure by closing his jaw and swallowing hard before speaking. “Are – are you serious?”

“About favors? Oh yes, very much so. I usually delay my own reciprocation but in this case I’ve something quite specific in mind.”

The blond just stared, giving in to the overall shock and…some other mild as yet unidentifiable disturbance he felt. His voice was faint as he asked, “Such as?”

“Private lessons. Gratis. Deal?” Not that he’d need them per say, but proximity and perseverance could only be assets in pursuit of this amusement.

“Done. With pleasure.”

Lucifer certainly hoped so.

He left the store a scant half-hour later, arrangements tidily sorted and happier than he’d been all afternoon. No great inroads with the man; he sensed a very closed book there, but he was nearly beside himself with excitement. It wasn’t just the piano(s); after the few months they’d been in LA he’d finally found how he most wanted to occupy himself here, and now, with this addition… **well** …he was even more impatient to begin. Wait until he told Maze….soon. Soon enough.

>

Several weeks later one very irritated Lucifer was bellowing over the din into his demon’s ear.

“This is a trial, Mazikeen. Ludicrous. You simply **can’t** be enjoying yourself.”

She could barely hear him through the tinny blast of what was passing for music here, but caught the intention in the disgusted tone and body language. He was right – this place was terrible. All of it. Atmosphere, people, whateverinhell that reek was…yeah. NO.

“We could go….”

“Yes, lets.”

“I wasn’t done. I was going to say ‘we could go’ instead to….”

Lucifer stopped listening. He had a pretty good idea of what would likely transpire next without his overt interference…his demon had a knack for finding interesting gatherings of all sorts, and more often than not there was some amusing debauchery to partake in. But he was overly weary of simply being dragged around. Tired of hoping the venue or the humans attending would be worth his time. Bored in general of not being in total control, even if mere fun was the aim. And he’d been working clandestinely for awhile now to rectify that. Perhaps it was time to let her in on his little secret, seeing as she’d have a starring role.

He interrupted her again, and irritated as she was about it, took note of the different light in his eye. When he broached his own option with simply ‘it’s a secret surprise, Mazie – let’s go play’ she figured they were just going back to the loft to entertain themselves. With themselves. Which was an acceptable alternative as they’d been together that way far less over the last few months – simply too much variety here to enjoy. Monogamy was baffling. Why only two together? She couldn’t understand how these humans did it or even why they wanted to. More oddly, they often got ANGRY when confronted with perceived threat to their pairings. Who cared? Numerous fish in the sea, familiarity breeds contempt and all that. Besides. Complacency was dull stuff, and that she simply could not abide.

As he led her out she found herself more happily switching mental gears same as he did the ones on the 1962 Chevrolet Corvette C1. Top down as he preferred his bedmates meant the dank air swirled around her in the passenger seat, tangling her hair. Catching it in a fist at the nape of her neck Maze looked over at him, obvious delight in driving shining on his face. By her estimation the car was a strange acquisition considering how easily they could get around with little effort, but he was clearly tickled with his new toy. The demon was simply impressed he’d made it through the entire Greater LA DMV experience without the chasms of Hell erupting under the sketchy tectonics in the area. She smiled at his grin, looking him over. Yes, attractive for here, and being able to enjoy him in this way wasn’t difficult: it just wasn’t necessary. They’d been together forever it seemed and sex, even stupendous sex, had little to do with their uniquely characteristic relationship. Present or in the future, although it wasn’t a bad way to pass their time here seeing as it was impossible back home. Maze settled herself in to the idea of a nice ride now, and an even nicer ride a little later, but then was surprised when he drove by the turn-off to their loft.

“Lucifer?!”

“I told you, Maze! It’s a secret. Now unclench your knickers and mind your patience.”

“I’m not wearing any,” she retorted. “And like you’re such a great example at that yourself.”

“On occasion I am.” The look skimmed underneath the phrase was an interesting complexity, but before she decided if she wanted to spend any time figuring it out they’d arrived. Or at least the car stopped.

“Where are we?”

He said nothing, just smiled at her, opened her door and scooted her down a sloping alleyway between two large buildings. She could smell dust, concrete new **and** broken, fresh paint and a faint scent of ozone. Plus some old urine…a rather unpleasant blend of cat and human, apparently. She was rather hoping  that was only the outside décor as he unlocked a side door and nudged her in.

“Well?”

“Well, what? What am I looking at?” The demon walked forward up a narrow stairwell and paused, her footfalls echoing inside the cavernous space. She spun slowly, sharp amber eyes taking in the deconstructed maw of the building’s vast interior. Large drapes of plastic sheeting were hung haphazardly, scaffolds and wood framing cobbled along the walls, huge bobbins of electrical cables were stacked in a far corner along with what looked like serious welding equipment. Whew, that must be where the ozone scent originated. For a second she’d been concerned some of Hell’s reluctant residents had come through uninvited. Sneaky bastards they could be, and the longer this ‘vacation’ wore on, the more concerned she became about the solvency of Hell’s borders. However Lucifer refused to even entertain a conversation about it. Not yet, anyway. Standing in the middle of the vast space she turned again to her Devil and arms shrugged out with palms up, repeated her question.

Lucifer, who had been quietly watching her from his lean in the doorjamb and hands folded in front of his buckle simply indicated with a head tilt a large structure leaning against a far wall. She hadn’t seen it in the dimness of sparse emergency lighting, and walked over. It took her a second, but saw arrays of sockets on a metal framework. Stepping back slightly she realized it was a sign of sorts. A huge one.

“L-U-X. ‘Lux?’”

“Correct.”

“What is it?”

“The name.”

“Of?”

“Mazie…don’t be dense; it doesn’t become you. It’s the name of this place. My place.”

_“ **What?** ” _

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her, beginning to pace away. “Yes, my place. And yours to run, as you did my…other. I suspect this’ll be far more pleasant for both of us. Definitely for the patronage. And certainly better than some of those nonsense venues you’ve subjected us to.” She spluttered a little bit at this, but he just spoke over her. “As tonight, prime example of all things dreadfully nasty. Here, free rein for free will under the umbrella of my choices.” He pulled a dropcloth away from a section of a long structure at one end of the room and gently ran his hands over the exposed wood. A bar. His pulpit for her. He spoke so softly she could barely hear him. “Yes, much more pleasant. For me especially.” He redraped the expensive piece, turning to face his actively perplexed companion.

“Lucifer…” she shook her head incredulously, feeling surreal. Nope, despite the jarring movement still standing here in the dusty gloom with him and still badly confused. Becoming angry, too. Shaking harder and gathering her wits from where he’d scattered them barked. “You CAN’T be serious?! You’re the **Lord** of **Hell** and you want to,” she spun around, palms out, “…do what? Play host here? With these creatures? For what possible reason?? And – **AND** \- you’ve never told me exactly why we left so suddenly!”

“And I won’t be now either, demon mine.” His voice was soft, but she heard the veiled threat in it. Her jaw snapped shut in frustration and after a few moments of détente he just sighed and began speaking again lightly. “It’s got a fun backstory, Mazie, steeped in mayhem – right up your alley.” He strolled back towards the center of the large space, brushing by her shoulder and indicating she follow with a twirl of his wrist before clasping his hands behind his back. “Had some little heyday before being abandoned – sounds like yours truly, yes? Then stood fallow for a bit – my my, how the correlations accrue – before squatters and arsonists had at.” He paused at the far end and stared up into the exposed ductwork. “Only a little singed; barely damaged goods but that’s not what most investors saw.” He chuckled, still depreciatingly amused at the parallels. “Apparently had such a taint in the local market that I was able to get this for a great price…you could even say a devilish deal indeed. And that’s not all.” Lucifer began walking again toward a partially reconstructed staircase, huffing when she did not jump to his heels. “C’mon, c’mon…I want you to see.” Ascending to a curved outlying portion of a landing they leaned on the railing and looked out over the vast space: two very different creatures perceiving very differently the very same scene.

Lucifer saw chaos here, but not of aftermath of destruction. Of creation. His own, for a change. Not simply someone else’s to act a part in. Maze saw only distraction and delusion. She realized that Lucifer was likely hiding far greater damage than she’d thought, but understood that pressing him for answers too soon would only go badly. Probably for them both. She sighed and he nudged her with an elbow. “There’s more.” She followed him to a dark corner of the landing to a set of steel double doors and let him push her inside.

His mood rose as the elevator did and he began to smile as the doors opened.

No functional electricity here yet but huge sweeps of glass on the exterior walls let the human-made false twilight of LA’s witching hours flood in. This space was more finished than the club downstairs with shelving going up along two sides and marble slabs waiting to be installed on the other where it looked like other rooms lay beyond the open central one. Archeological elements crusted some of the columns under the walls and crates labeled ‘fragile’ waited in the center of the room. “Books and art,” was his response to her questioning gaze. She tightened her jaw at his incomprehensible fascination with human tidbits and walked toward the balcony beyond the windows. Easy view of the stars here, artificial and otherwise. No surprise his need for either, really. Maze walked back in past Lucifer and saw an alcove holding a large bed with a few books on the rumpled linens, one of which looked to be a ledger. So. He’d probably been staying here when she merely thought he’d been sleeping out with the night’s amusements.

Not in the space they shared together.

And not with her.

Keeping secrets.

She tabled this new concern for the time being, verbally worrying instead over the possession and display of some of this (even for them) clearly blatant ‘hand-in-the-cookie-jar’ historical acquisition.

“How did you find contacts to accrue these pieces? That human you met at the museum?” Maze was once again irritated at herself she’d not gone with him that day; he wasn’t known for a lot of the discretion that she’d found to be so very useful when interacting with people. Especially disreputable people. Most required a lightly manipulative touch and the Devil more readily employed heavy blows.

Lucifer grumbled a little – he knew what his demon thought of his methods – she just didn’t know all in his repertoire. Yet.

“Yes, Abigail. Canny little vixen once I got her unstarched; she’s got some nefarious contacts in the worlds of art and artifacts and I am only too pleased to invite such deviants to a seat at my table. Do enjoy a good fresh dish, Maze – you know that.”

She was still shell-shocked at what he had on the walls. Especially one. She ran her fingers over it lightly, stunned he’d choose something so obvious in declaration. “Cuneiform? Especially this one? Don’t you think people will recognize it?”

“Feh. As if they’d even likely bloody notice! Nothing more amusing that hiding in plain sight; it’s astounding really, how myopic these creatures can be…gives me gooseflesh the likeness is so uncanny.” He laughed sardonically here and Maze understood why. He might be quite self-involved but was also self-aware…a distinction not often shared by those enmeshed in the former. “I could probably walk about LA with a bullhorn announcing ‘I am the Devil himself’ and n’er a false eyelash would bat.” Lucifer’s forehead creased in amused consideration as he steepled his fingertips under his chin. “Might try that actually – good for a giggle, perhaps.”

“ **Lucifer**.”

“Oh, what now? Still sulky, are you? Come, come Mazie mine, surely you see the appeal of it all?”

The demon nudged her irritation aside as she focused his last phrase. The overall tone was light as the rest of his recent banter, but could swear she’d heard a plaintive echo…perhaps she’d been mistaken….

She wasn’t. Lucifer had felt it escape and was quick to brush away the slight lapse. He rose quickly and herded her toward the elevator. “Well, enough sight-seeing for now. Lots of work ahead yet, so let’s away. Got another surprise for you, but I’ll save it since the night is still young enough for some other minor shenanigans you think? Perhaps some more private ones?” Feeling his tension she simply smiled coyly, hiding her concerns behind the expression she donned.

And kept it on through the trip out of his in-progress attempt at some small form of resurrection.

And the car ride back to the loft where his nails bit into her leg when he wasn’t shifting gears.

And in the hallway outside their door when he hurled her against the wall and went down on his knees to lift her skirt, angrily trying to fill his own emptiness as well as slake her ire.

And in his bedroom where pleasure was distilled through pain as he punished them both, and both willing to endure it together for different reasons.

It only fell away as he did into sleep, sated for the moment and slung away from her on the far side of his bed. Only then did she let truth of her own show: pretty pretense dissolving under her acid opinions of this LA masquerade.

Mazikeen the demon lay in all her Hellish glory next to her Lord sound asleep in his featherbeds and wondered exactly what she had gotten herself into by following him here. Wondering further if he knew, either.

She was becoming more concerned that he did not. Not at all.

>

In the week preceding the expected opening of Lux, Maze came by late one evening to walk the space and suss out any last minute problems. She was impressed despite herself at how it had all come together; not just the physical aspects but all the logistics of supplies and personnel and had herself to thank for organizing it effectively. She still didn’t agree with the entire premise, especially since she was painfully aware he was keeping the reasons from her, but…whatever. Enough that things were unfolding without major hitches. For now, anyway. Having something to do and orchestrate made her feel more like herself here, even if the whole concept was still ‘off’ in her own estimation. And Lucifer **had** been much happier with this little project, and wasn’t that really the inertial point of it all?

She took the elevator up the space he’d set aside for her to do with as she pleased; a section of the floor just below Lucifer’s penthouse. She walked in and simply stood, arms crossed and thinking thoughts as hollow as the wide room before her. Not being a creature of comforts as he was she felt no need to nest. And this wasn’t her home, after all. The space was sprawling emptiness aside from her own bed in the center, and a closet full of clothes. He’d finally bought the loft they’d been leasing and moved her out, citing blithely her need to be in closer proximity to Lux as its overseer, but they both knew that was not the whole truth. She shook her head; frustrated with both him in general and herself as well for not being able to figure him out here. It had never been a problem in Hell….so she’d thought. Perhaps she was wrong about that, too.

Lost in tangled musings she slowly became aware of sound trickling through her ruminations and snarled: that piano downstairs was priceless and only to be played by him – who dared? Furiously stalking back to the steel doors it was only once she was inside that she realized the music was coming from above. She quickly keyed in his private combination and tapped her booted foot impatiently as the elevator rose.

As the doors slid open she saw Lucifer sitting with his back to the elevator playing a piano similar to the one in Lux. All the balcony doors were open and words and song inundated one another through gusts of wind blowing through the space. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard, could ever even understand. She knew every tongue but this, the inexplicable one she was hearing…yes, she suddenly realized that this language would never have been heard by a demon before. The soft lights began to flicker as his song intensified and she was startled when he stopped abruptly, back twisting in a sharp clench.

He knew without turning she was there of course, and after a few moments he spoke to her.

“Come with me, Maze. I have need of a special skill set of yours.”

Following him as she always had, she was surprised to wind up on the section of beach where they’d arrived. Returning hadn’t crossed her mind since that first night and she wasn’t aware of him coming back, either. Lucifer plunged his hands deep in his pockets, walking slowly away to approach the waterline. The primordial roar of the ocean and the tang of salt were an odd foil to the human influences surrounding them. Domesticated electricity could not rival the stars so they smogged out what their artificial lights were a wan echo of. Hiding under the taint they created, tainted themselves. It was easier to remain focused on the small bauble of a life: finite creatures in an eternally fluxing universe needing grounding somehow, and successful at hiding their true natures within their constructs. As both she and Lucifer seemed to be doing now themselves, she mused. Maze remained still, arms crossed as she watched him finally stop before the tideline wasting away from them. He looked up, silent as the sky spanning above them…silent as Heaven had been to him since his fall. She watched him with growing apprehension coiling in her gut: something far amiss here….

Finally movement; his hands coming free of his pockets to disappear in front of his body.

“Why are we here, Lucifer?”

He did not answer, still and quiet except for the slight movements of his elbows. After a few moments he let his hands drop and the shirt he’d undone fell away as well, crumpling at his ankles and blowing over a few times in the night’s errant gusts. From this distance the expensively crafted garment looked like any other piece of humanity’s windblown trash on the beach. His skin glowed in the city’s hollow light reflected under the low cloud cover, pristine and beautiful. As he was intended. As he’d been wonderfully crafted himself, and claimed again in his image here.

Apprehension beginning to crowd in on concern, she repeated her question, but he did not respond although she knew he could hear her voice. Mazikeen trod closer, the soft sand becoming denser underfoot where the tide had retreated. Slowing as she came near, pausing behind and beside him. Chancing words again, she tried to lighten this mood of his she could feel mirroring the darkness over them.

“Lucifer. If you wanted some frolic, we could’ve just stayed in. This place is…gritty. Harsh. Thought you were becoming one for more creature comforts?” The sound of her words are lost in the depth of the skies and the fissures behind his eyes. He did speak, finally.

“It’s not play I’m after, Maze. Not now. Deadly serious, hear?”

Quiet again fell over them both: his resigned, hers confused until he spoke again.

“Might want to retreat a bit.”

She hedged, concern growing. “Lucifer..?”

“Mind me, demon. Now. You’ll be glad of it, considering. And my preference is your role to enact – as it is in anything else may I ask of you. Remember that.”

Sighing in irritated trepidation, she backed away once more, slowly at first and then in lurching stumbles, barely catching herself on her elbows as the glorious aurora of twinned plumes erupt from his back.

“Oh God…” The startle of words are torn away from her mouth faster than she can clasp a granular hand over to stem them. She is terrified. She is in awe. She is beholden to the wonder of what she sees in front of her and doesn’t know whether to kneel or sing though she’s never done either. Behind her curled fingers she whispers, the words blooding her mind as her teeth do her knuckles in the effort to recover. “You’re…so beautiful…”

He does not hear this, reacting only to her first. “Yes, exactly. **God**. His gift for his **beloved** First Son.” His voice fractures through the words he’s emphasized, rifting wider to the darkness within him.

The sheer span of the wings is a tremendous display of balance in delicacy and power. Outstretched as they are Lucifer’s body looks slight despite his size and light floods over them. No, she realizes looking closer…not exactly. Yes, the feathers seems to sieve ambient luminosity from their surroundings but are replete with an austere glow of their own. Oh…how could she not have wholly realized? Her lord was created as his own touchstone for all the light in existence and she just now begins to appreciate the persecution he’s endured having to sequester these wonderful talismans under the scabby slag of hellish ash and violence.

He continues to speak to her, needing his demon only to understand enough to do as he’ll command.

“Me. His _‘precious child’_. The first, and first lost.” The words revealed from the vaults of him here were cindered husks of reluctant old hopes. They crumbled and withered away into the wind as other debris loose under the stars did this night. “His Light Bearer. For his glory…and by proxy, mine.” The stance he took on the sand seemed to intensify, though his body had not moved. “No need to bear light in Hell, Maze; dear old Dad lit those furnaces himself. Nor here. These creatures create their own as they mimic other heavenly things, anemic though those results may be. It seems enough to sate them, this wan comfort. Perhaps it is. Cold coddles are enough if you’ve never known different, I suppose.”

The predicated sigh echoed from the depth of Lucifer’s grudging homesickness. His true home, not the cruel one he’d been residing in for so long. Or even the thin delusion of relief here. His loathing for this perception of weakness in himself seeped out through his thoughts. ‘Precious child indeed. Such faith you’ve shown me, Father.’ He grew angrier. At his family. At his treatment. At himself for still caring. So very much – ah, no. _Enough._

Aloud now: “I’ve no further need of his gift, as he has not had for me.”

Her heart stuttered as her voice did. “My lord…I…”

“Sever them, Maze. Unburden me. Pretty shackles, but I’ll wear them no longer.”

“ _WHAT?_ ” She could not have heard him correctly… _no_ …this was… _ **no**_ …. “You can’t mean me to…mar you that way. Lucifer, I can’t. I won’t.”

“Oh, but you will.” She had to. He could not do it himself.

“Can’t you simply….” She swallowed the tremor, the Judas weakness of this humanoid throat. “Can’t you just hide them again? Please?”

It was her brokenly rare use of that last word that softened his voice, but even so, she could hear the waning patience in it.

“I’m **tired** of hiding, Mazikeen. I’m done. Finished. I refuse to play a game where I can have no say in the rules nor act in a play where I’ve never wished to take the role assigned. I’ll not be beholden to one where I’d never a choice to be created. Wasn’t my call, darling. But regardless of my etiology, the simple fact remains that this  is **my** existence,  not his. I’ll no longer be a plaything to be trifled with and flung away when the toymaker’s dissatisfied. Pinocchio’s his own boy now and I’m quite real enough to thrive without strings or things rhyming with. Now, demon mine, do as I ask.”

Mazikeen rises to her feet, using the strength in his voice to fuel her shaking muscles to approach. The outstretched wings shine across their tremendous span, washed with subtle rivers of light sluicing along the rachii of the feathers through the vanes. The illumination flickers as she comes near, almost as if they know. And of course they do being a part of him. Close in, they have a scent of rain-washed embrace and sense-rending joy if blend such as that existed. She pauses behind him and tentatively lays one warm palm between where they furl from his back, feeling the supple musculature flex underneath at her touch. Any hopes she harbored for reprieve fall as hard as Lucifer himself had at his next words.

“I’m ready, Maze.”

 _‘Oh my lord, but I am not…’_ is the last thought that escapes the shell of her mind she is locking around the portion of her capable of this task. With a last soft press to his perfection, she draws a single curved dagger from her back harness, the wicked metal singing against the holster - but it is a dirge, not a hymn. Unlike Lucifer, she wasn’t made for joy in creation but destruction, and it is this harsh nature that he now has need of. And she is here to fulfill those needs as he asks. With her other hand, she grasps where warm flesh cusps against the start of silky down. Biting back bile, she begins.

It is agony.

For both.

The wing she is gripping flares out as she slices, jerking and flailing as the radiance fades from it, shine bleeding away as crimson washes do from the lengthening gash. Her demon blade is sharp and expertly wielded in the hideous act, but this…this abhorrent work of hers is challenging the undertaking of the true form of God for his child and the struggle to rend asunder Lucifer’s choice from his design is rife with the necessary violence of Hell, itself another of God’s creations. He gives neither movement nor voice to this blaze of pain, but the stars swim before him as his eyes and heart flood at the loss. Maze becomes desperate in her efforts, the divinity in this blood of his hotly caustic over her skin as it spills. Pouring down his back, staining the intrinsic purity of him, burning her hands though she heals quickly. As he does not, dealt such a grievous injury. The weight of the dying wing begins to tear the skin and muscle underneath away in shreds and she hurries to finish before he is further despoiled, sickened at the sound. She cannot bear to look wholly at the ruinous abomination of his construct; only staring blankly at the mending flesh and exposed bone of her hands as she prepares to finish what he’s asked. The injuries are nothing compared to the hurt and gorge rising within her…and she feels transient fury’s cold lick of hatred for Lucifer smear her guts. How **dare** he? Making her appreciate then _destroy_ this most tangible aspect of his original grace. Still, she knows his pain is far worse and for now, the only way to staunch it is to end this quickly.

When she begins to cut the second one away Lucifer is silent no longer. He clenches his fists, begins to scream and does not stop nor take breath until she is finished. The design of his voice for song is instead shredded by embattled pain and he purges himself of any latent hopes for divine intervention or reconciliation in the sound. It is blistering rage and defiance that ring clear most now and all of Heaven and Hell alike echo with his anguish. Fallen archangel. Reluctant ruler in abdication. Proud, lost, heartbroken son still railing against his father’s anathema and not even this horrific mutilation draws his attention, it seems. But unbeknownst to Lucifer the bitterest lance of his cry pierces far through the irredeemable wishes of God in his isolation and the nascent devastation wracks parent and child alike, forever. Autonomy. On occasions so costly as these, the price is exhorbitant for all that possess it.

When he is free, and only then, Lucifer sinks to his knees on the fouled sand, head bowed and gasping. Maze begins to kneel behind him, offering herself in support but he pushes her away, needing to be his own solace for now. She retreats a few steps to stand behind him in the wreckage of his forfeiture, her clothes stained with his blood and their spirits washed in shared torment. She watches him settle as she yet cannot. When he finally rises and speaks, he is in control of his voice, but the divorced form of his body – that still trembles.

“I’m leaving now, Maze. Going home.” He laughs here, and the edges of the sound are as sharp as the dagger she’s ravaged him with. “Well what passes for now, at least. I wish not to discuss this, hear?”

“Lucifer, I…” she falters, at a loss. For words…for everything, really. She needs a task, something to cleanse the palate of this devastation - and her action - from her. He turns, and she never, **never** again wants to see this hauntingly peculiar expression on his face as he looks down at the carnage.

“I’ll not be needing those any longer, but can’t have ‘em adding to the mess these creatures seem hell-bent on creating for themselves here, so….” He laughed again, hollowly and she clung to the words if not the tone.

“I’ll take care of it, Lucifer. I will.” She watched as he walked away, sourly uneven rips curdling his flesh grotesquely into what might pass for consequent healing on him. He paused to pick up his shirt, sliding it gingerly over his raw skin, leaving it loose and undone. As he was himself, nearly.

“Thank you, Maze. Ever so. For ever on. For…everything.”

She simply inclined her head in assent as he looked on her, then turned to leave. She watched his progress up the beach until she could no longer see him and then head pounding, collapsed to vomit, her retch just adding to the mess. The wings are softer than the dreams she’s never had and still warm, twitching erratically as Mazikeen stroked them…covered with sand and their co-mingled blood and now a few of her own tears she didn’t even realize she was capable of shedding. For a moment she lay with them gathered in her arms, demonic face buried in the fading scent of his first home, the one she’d never see. Fury once more breaching her sadness she stood, laden, to glare as her true self defiantly on his behalf at the sky, soiled and alone under her burden. An abattoir of his dead blessing, yes. But strong. Capable. Knowing her role as she is needed, which is more than she can say for anything ‘up there’ regarding her devil. With a last parting stab with her amber eyes at Heaven and its pretentiously twaddled occupants Lucifer’s demon finishes cleaning up the mess she’s made of him.

To Hell with them all, and she dearly hoped she could meet them there. Soon.

He is waiting for her when she returns, sitting on the foot of her bed in the midst of that empty space she’d wished not to stay long enough to fill. Flicking his coin over his palm as if he hadn’t just had her cleave him. For an instant she is not sure she is relieved or angry about that. She desperately needs time alone, but is comorbidly glad to have all loose ends raveled in.

“Well?”

“Safely away, my lord. Lucifer.” She deftly corrects her misspeak in response to his drawn brows.

The same now arch in silent question.

Maze sighed, suddenly tired after the exertions of the night. Exhausted to the depths her soul would plunge to had she one. “Hidden well in the bowels of some of our other new interests here. No need to think on them again unless you wish it.”

“No, no…I don’t think I shall. Not tonight, any road.” His tone is soft, but not reflective. Like her, he is well finished with this evening.

She walks away, only to be snagged again by his voice and in the fleeting hesitation before she turns back he glimpses the crucible where the steel of her resolve is forged anew in her own fire. He smiles to himself. He could not have asked for a better ally here and she should know…

…and in the resilient glance she gives he realizes she already does. So simple then, the appropriate codicil on this night. “Thank you again, Mazie mine. Sleep well, big day coming soon…lots yet to see to and do….”

She simply nods.

It is enough for them, now. This simple exchange, this silent acknowledgement of different strengths, these plans for this new place…this new, unspoken understanding of how long they may stay….

Reluctant to think any more tonight the weary demon starts the scalding water of her shower hoping for both cleanliness and absolution, and rolls her eyes at the last thought. Not likely from outside sources; perhaps from herself, in time. Steam rising as she sits on the edge of the bath she removes one high boot then the second, feeling a slight prickle behind her left knee as she does. Damned sand. She’ll not go near that beach again willingly. But no, not grit…she pulls at the small object barbing her skin. And stares.

A feather.

A small blood-tinged remnant from her mutilation of Lucifer.It mocks her with its mere presence on her palm: accusatorily tangled divine witness.

She shakes her head in disbelief; not one to be overly given to prolonged introspection. Placing it on the edge of the sink she strips then shrugs her way under the scorching water and after a long, long time she feels clean and as herself again. Drying her body after she appraises the feather as she combs her hair. It no longer seems critical and Maze smirks at herself for even thinking such a thing in the first place.

‘Must be tired. Either that or I’m becoming as delusional as these meat suits are’. But she does clean it and try to smooth it down. Unfortunately to no avail as the barbels refuse to be soothed, but at least they are pristine once more and if she is not mistaken, glowing. Faintly. For a moment she holds it, pausing briefly to taste the quill and the salt of Lucifer’s blood on the tip of her tongue, wondering if she should tell him sooner rather than later about it, but unwilling to shoulder one more unwanted burden this evening simply decides **not** to decide at all.

She leaves her soiled clothes in a heap on the floor, not caring about a small mess after tonight’s large one. Only the feather and her blade harness are taken as she walks naked to look out one of her own large windows, the deep sill empty save for a few candies (her weakness), a bubbling tank with a dragonfish in it and a small silver box from an antique store she’d found herself inexplicably drawn to during her early wanders. Strange, that afternoon’s activity…collecting human bits is definitely not her thing. Somehow, she is not surprised to find that the feather fits perfectly inside it without no further trouncing. She closes the lid as her mouth opens in a vast yawn, latently sharp teeth shining as she places the box next to the fish. She taps the glass lightly as it swims closer, wondering if it feels trapped as she does. Even in captivity wild things know what they are. It comes close to her fingers, then moves over to peer at the box shining in the light from its tank. Maze smiles. She’ll tell Lucifer about it tomorrow. Or the next day.

But the demon does not. Neither tomorrow, **or** the next day - nor the next week. Nor year. Or several. She does not know why…but again, she is not a creature of introspection naturally and feels no need to change. Occasionally on difficult days, she opens the box to look, less often to touch. Each time the feather glows softly: sometimes she thinks that it is waiting. For what?

And if someone had told her on that night about the event the feather was waiting for five years’ hence and her part in it, she’d have laughed in their faces before she punished them soundly for such delusional thoughts. As if demons would have anything to do with fucking angels. Well, **exactly**.

Sequestered in his space above and staring at the play of city light from his balcony, Lucifer was grounded as he could never be otherwise before tonight. He was shocked to feel so bereft, and found this unanticipated nuance challenging to manage. Nonetheless, he also felt freer now than in epochs of Hell with them and that is what he decided to focus on.

Not their loss.

Not everything, **everything** that entailed…and until now he hadn’t even realized….

_(…not loss. choice…right?) _

Oh God.

Oh no.

_(…oh, Father…I’m sorry, and I can’t even bring myself to say why, not even to myself…)_


End file.
